Red Reunion
by lysjelonken
Summary: Sequel to Red Conciliation. Jane and Lisbon are living in Sacramento and happily engaged. But the man she left behind in New York, isn't keen on being left behind... Jisbon, as per usual. Three-shot, that turned into quite the multi-chap.
1. Chapter 1

**Red Reunion: Sequel of Red Conciliation**

**So it seems I left some things in the epilogue; I'll rectify it with a new story! Must read Red Conciliation first.**

**Plot: Ross Kings shows up in Sacramento, determined to win Lisbon back. **

**Disclaimer: Nope, I own nothing

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_Two months ago, New York City_

_She sits in the hospital bed, thinking. Every sound that emits through her door seems amplified in the silence; the rushed footsteps of nurses, the squeaky wheel of a wheelchair, beeping machines and voices. And still, underneath all those sounds, there is an all-consuming silence, _

_She knows she has an important decision to make. Only moments ago, Jane was sitting beside her. His eyes were red-rimmed and filled with more relief than she's ever seen. _

"_Teresa… You're alive…" He spoke with grateful disbelief and something else… She asked him how long he'd been there, by her bedside. He didn't answer, just kissed her lips with loving intensity. And then he asked her to come back to Sacramento. Said if she refused, he'd move to New York. But he's never leaving her side again. He loves her._

_It still felt unreal. It felt like a dream, like she was about to wake up and hate herself for dreaming something so wonderful and false. _

_But it was real. He was really sitting there, holding her tightly and gently stroking her hair. He didn't seem to be impatient for an answer, just truly elated that she was here and not dead. _

_She let herself lie into him and revel in being close to him – finally._

_When the reality of her pending decision sets in, she asks – neigh, orders – Jane to get home and take a shower. At first he stubbornly refused to leave her side, until she jokingly said she wouldn't cuddle with him when he stinks like this. He promised to be back in under an hour. _

_And here she was, sitting and thinking so hard that she could practically hear the cogs turning in her brain._

_Jane._

_Ross._

_Both men meant a great deal to her. Both had their advantages. And both had made it clear that they want to be in a relationship with her. _

_She's known Ross for a long time; they had their own on-and-off history, they meshed so well. Being with Ross made her comfortable, it made her feel good._

_But Jane… She's known Jane a while as well. Their history was extensive – years of suppressed feelings. Years of never recognizing said feelings…_

_He did just save her life… But she wasn't going to make a decision as important as this one based on him saving her life. It wouldn't be fair to her or Jane in the long run if she based her decision on that alone. _

_She heard a shuffling at the door, and watched as her team entered, pizza and a six-pack of beer in hand – surely against the knowledge of the nurses. Guise, then Weekes and then Ross Kings. _

_She knew they'd come. It was just after quitting time and she'd built a family-like bond with the team, just like she did with her old team. But still, even now after two years in New York, there were still times when she almost called Cho instead of Guise, or ordered Van Pelt to interrogate the suspect instead of Weekes. It was close, but it wasn't the same._

_In that moment she knew. She drank the illegal beer and ate the illegal pizza with her team, and when they had their fun she shoed them away. Even Jane, who showed up in the middle of the party and had taken his place beside her on the bed, was kicked out._

_All but Kings._

_When the door closed behind the team, he looked up at her with the golden-brown eyes she'd come to adore through the years. He knew._

"_Please don't do this." His voice was almost chuckling, as if he thought what she was about to do was the most absurd thing ever. "Don't throw away your life here because some bozo saved your life."_

"_That's not what I'm doing, Ross." She said gravely. "I love him."_

"_You don't love me?" More a statement than a question._

"_I do. But not enough to keep me from the place and the people I should've never left in the first place. I've built myself a life here, Ross. But I was never truly happy. Not the way I was in Sacramento. You can understand that?"_

_He didn't. _

_He turned around and slammed the door and didn't turn back._

X

Present, Sacramento

She was sitting on the couch, paging through a wedding magazine.

It felt weird; she, Teresa Lisbon, sitting with a magazine filled with fluffy, chiffon-clad princesses, smiling like idiots. She never thought she'd ever be sitting in this position. That she'd be _engaged. _Even less that she'd do something this girly.

But as cheesy and annoying the women in the books were, she had to admit that she was pretty excited. The wedding was still months away, but she was already racking her brain over a dress and venue and what kind of flowers should be used…

She heard the rustling of a key in the front door, and it startled her back to reality. She stuffed the glossy magazine under the cushion of the couch, and hastily crossed her arms, trying very hard to looked inconspicuous.

A second later, her fiancé walked through the front door, carrying an array of grocery bags. He greeted her with a wide, happy sunshine-smile.

"Good afternoon, darling. Reading that wedding magazine again?"

She blushed bright red, earning a chuckle from him.

"No need to be embarrassed, my love. It's perfectly normal to be excited." He said, bending over the couch to lovingly kiss the top of your head. "And besides, I think you'll look beautiful in white. Even more beautiful than usual, if that's even remotely possible."

She couldn't help the smile that tugged on her lips. "You're terrible, you know that?"

"Terrible? What's terrible about calling my _beautiful _fiancé _beautiful_?" He plops down beside her and slips his arm around her shoulders. Her head rested on his shoulder and she smiled.

He craned his neck to get a better look at her face. "There's something bothering you."

She doesn't answer, simply nodded a little.

"Care to tell me what?"

She sighed. "I don't know, Patrick. I just… I feel kind of…"

"Guilty?"

She looked back at of him, gazing deeply into his eyes. Even though she expressed her annoyance at his abilities more often than not, she secretly loved the way he could read her. How he knew how she felt before she even did.

She nodded. "I've been thinking about it a lot. I mean… Ross and I had a long history and we were friends. And then after the Red John-thing, when I left New York, it ended so abruptly. We didn't really talk anything out. I mean don't get me wrong. I don't regret for a second coming back with you. I love you, Patrick. But I guess I feel bad about leaving things the way I did."

Jane nodded. "Well, Teresa, there really isn't much for you to do anymore. He's a big boy; he can deal with a little heartbreak. Besides, you can't torture yourself for doing what your heart tells you."

Lisbon gave him a look, eyebrow raised. "'He can handle a little _heartbreak_'? Wow. That makes me feels_ so_ much better."

He chuckled at her expression and kissed her cheek. "What I mean is you can't blame yourself for doing what felt right to you. You were in a situation where _somebody_ was going to get hurt. It just turned out to be him."

She nodded slowly, then sighed. "I hate it when you're right." She said, pouting.

He chuckled and pulled her closer, closing the space between them with a lingering kiss. "Well, you better get used to it fast, my love, because you're going to be living with me and my right-ness for a long, long time. There's no getting rid of me."

She smiled lovingly and returned the kiss.

She had no problem with that.

X

On the other side of the country, in his apartment in New York City, Ross Kings sat with a picture frame in his hand.

In the frame was a picture of Teresa Lisbon; her hair was glistening in the afternoon sunlight, her blue-green eyes shone with laughter.

"I'll get you back, Teresa." He said. His voice was dark and plagued with a thinly veiled anger. "I'll win you back if it's the last thing I do."

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**So because of the overwhelming response over the way I ended the thing with Ross in my story Red Conciliation, I decided to post a sequel. Might be three, four chapters, depending on the feedback from you guys. Please review?**

**Much love,**

**Zanny**


	2. Chapter 2

**Red Reunion: Chapter 2**

**Happy for the positive feedback I got on this fic. I created two OC's for this chap, because I think it'll be a bit unrealistic if Van Pelt is the maid of honor, since they're mostly friendly co-workers. So I created Cath and Jess, two of her old friends from her childhood and college years respectively.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine

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"I am _not_ trying that thing on!" Lisbon insisted, crossing her arms defiantly.

Grace Van Pelt's face fell and she looked at the poufy, chiffon-draped dress she was holding up. "I thought you said you wanted something really pretty and traditional?"

"I do, but that thing's more like a chiffon strait-jacket." Grace couldn't keep the chuckle from escaping, nor could one of the other two bridesmaids (imported old friends from Chicago and San Francisco, respectively). Each of the women was dressed in pretty violet bridesmaids dresses, with seams and pieces of sleeve still pinned on roughly.

"You'll look really pretty and bride-like!" Jess, the old friend from the Academy in San Fransisco, said in a singsong-voice, spreading her fingers over the soft, white fabric for emphasis. Lisbon responded by throwing a shoe at her.

"Here, try this one on." Cath (the childhood friend) said, handing Lisbon a long, elegant ivory two-piece dress. Lisbon raised her eyebrow in skepticism, but she took the dress and headed to the changing room.

"I think it's going to be too big…" She called from inside.

"For heaven's sake, Tessie, eat a sandwich!" Jess called as she looked through the mess of white fabric smushed together on a rack too small for the amount of stock. "You're making me insecure with all this 'too-small'-business."

The three women laughed good-heartedly. In the two months since the engagement, they had become fast friends. Jess and Cath were driven in for general discussions and dress fittings, and neither were too upset about that fact.

Though Teresa Lisbon wasn't the kind of woman whose childhood bedroom played cathedral to weddings with Mister Teddy Bear, she _was_ the type of woman who was on top of a project. And her wedding was turning out to be quite the project. This, of course, meant that her two old friends and her friendly co-worker spent a lot of time together, planning and discussing, and soon friendship blossomed.

"Hey girls." They heard a whisper from the threshold of the wedding shop; a blonde-mopped head peeked out from around the corner. "Is she here?"

"She's inside, fitting." Someone whispered.

"Any luck in this one?"

"Not so far."

Against his fiancé's many spirited arguments, Jane had been checking in with a lot of her dress-searches.

"Don't tell me you believe in bad luck!" He'd tease her when she prohibited him from visiting whichever wedding shop they were visiting that trip.

"I don't." She would reply. "But I still want you to be surprised when you see me that day."

"Tess, sweetie, I think you can show up in a dustbin bag on our wedding day and I'll still think you're the most beautiful woman on earth…"

And then she'd slap him playfully on the chest and make some witty comment, even though he's absolutely serious. And she'd give him a lingering kiss on the lips before grabbing her handbag and jetting off for another dress-searching-session with her bridesmaids.

He didn't want to make her mad by seeing the dress; he wanted to see _her_. _Besides_, he thought slyly, _she looks beautiful in white. _Was it a crime to sneak a look at his fiancé in a pretty white dress?

"Nah, guys, I was right. This thing is too big." Lisbon mumbled at she exited the changing room, fidgeting with the only slightly loose bodice of the dress. When she looked up, she saw Jane –wide-eyed. She looked beautiful, the dress was form-fitting and embellished in the bodice and soft and flowing in the floor-length skirt. She looked like a princess.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice wasn't as much disappointed as it was shocked.

"I missed you." He said with a smile, closing the gap between them and giving her a sweet kiss. There was a chorus of "aww"''s from her bridesmaids, which they both promptly ignored. "You look stunning."

She blushed bright red. "You're terrible. You know that, right?"

"You love me anyway."

"Get a room!" Cath called from behind and Lisbon's blushing face turned back to her friends, startle. She can't believe she forgot about them… This engagement was starting to get to her; she was getting bride on the brain.

"Sorry." She mumbled, her cheeks burning.

"How far are you girls from done?" Jane asked, seemingly unaffected by the onlookers to their private little moment. "I want to take my girl out for coffee. After an exhausting day of dress-shopping, I'd say she deserves it."

"We're done for the day." Van Pelt said. "You can have her from here."

"Let me just get out of this dress-thing, and we'll go, okay?"

He nodded, and watched her disappear into the changing room. He felt the three woman's amused gazes on him, as he stood with his goofy grin still on his face.

"What?"

"Nothing." Van Pelt said, but it was crystal clear that she was gushing.

Jane chose to reply only with a playful mocking glare; this immediately fell when he saw his wife-to-be appearing from the curtain in her usual jeans and T-shirt combo, running her fingers through her messy, ebony curls.

"Alright, let's go! Bye guys." She waved at her friends.

"Bye!" They chorused. They watched the couple stroll out of the wedding shop, fingers intertwined, already engaged in a playful banter.

"She's such a goner." Cath said.

"Yeah." The other two chorused in agreement.

X

"A filter coffee and a tea, please. And prepare it with the milk _first_ and the water boiling hot."

The waiter nodded and sauntered off.

Across the table from him, Lisbon was sitting with an amused smirk on her face. She leaned back and crossed her arms. "You know the waiter is now probably telling his waiter buddies that the lady at table two is a total ass about her tea."

"It's not your tea, it's mine."

"And the waiter knows that? Who do you think they assume the tea is for? I bet you he's gonna put the tea in front of me when it arrives."

Jane thought for a while. "I don't wanna bet."

"Afraid you'll lose?" She said, smiling challengingly. This was their little game; back and forth. She was so happy that their bantering didn't evaporate after they got together. If anything, it increased exponentially. It was one of her favourite parts of their relationship, the playful way they could be with each other.

"No, I don't want to get out of the habit of gambling. Besides, what's mine will be yours soon. Remember?"

"Can't forget." She said, smiling and leaning over the table to kiss him.

They didn't realize that while they were wrapped up to deeply in each other, from across the street, someone was watching them intently.

As the waiter arrived (and placed the tea in front of Lisbon, earning a teasing look from Lisbon), he opened the car door and stood on the other side of street.

They were deep in their banter when he caught her eye.

Just for a second, like a ghost. There, but not really.

She saw him, standing there across the street, and she did a double take.

And then, when she looked again, he was gone. Disappearing behind passing traffic, and not reappearing as it passed.

"Teresa, are you okay?" He asked. His hand took hers over the table and his expression became worried and protective.

"N-nothing." She said, a little too quickly. She attempted to cover her shocked expression with a comforting smile, but not quite quick enough to beat Patrick Jane. Not that _anyone_ could be fast enough to beat Patrick Jane.

"Nothing. Don't worry."

"You were all happy and laughing one minute and then all of the sudden you look like you've seen a ghost. I'm going to worry."

"Don't. I just… thought I saw something. I was wrong." She squeezed his hand and smiled again. "Now what were you saying?"

With a bit of reluctance, Jane fell back into the previous conversation. But he could see the thinly veiled discomfort in her eyes.

She knew what she saw. She wasn't sure if what she saw was _real_, but she that's what she saw.

Ross Kings was standing across the street. And then he wasn't..?

Was she going crazy? Was this just another case of her bride on the brain?

Or maybe, even worse… was it real?

Across the street, hidden behind the doors of his parked car, Ross Kings was sitting with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He was getting to her, he could tell. Now he was in her head, on her mind.

He knew her well, better than anyone. He knew that once she began thinking, she didn't stop. And the more something was on her mind, the more familiar and comforting the idea became.

And he was planning to use that to his advantage to win her back.

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**REVIEW please! **

**Much love, Zanny**


	3. Chapter 3

**Red Reunion: Chapter 3**

**Sorry for taking forever to update! I decided to finish Epiphany first (now, finally, done) and then I went on a week-long tour to Knysna (which was plenty fun but left me stiff and sleepy). Forgive me my idiocy. **

**Disclaimer: Nope, nothing is mine**

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They entered her apartment – which had since become _their_ apartment – together. She placed her car keys and coat on the table in the foyer, and he made a beeline for the kitchen to make some coffee.

This had become a routine for them since they moved in together. They'd drive home together from work, or in today's case, the wedding shop, and he'd heat up the kettle to make a nice fresh cup of coffee for her and tea for him. Then they'd snuggle up on the couch and watch whatever she'd Tevo'd for the night.

Jane smiled as the kettle started to bubble. He couldn't believe how quickly they've become so domestic. How their relationship had transitioned from friendly co-workers to lovers and housemates in a short trip to New York City.

He felt like an idiot every time he thought about New York – he still felt stupid for even allowing her to go that far. And the whole debacle with Ross Kings still stung.

But in the end they ended up together, which is all that matters. Though it was a painful journey, luckily it ended so perfectly.

He poured the hot, boiling into their cups and carried them inside. He stood in the doorway and watched her for a moment – she was sitting on the couch, snuggled deep into a blanket, fidgeting with the remote control. Looking positively beautiful.

He could get used to seeing this sight every day.

He was one lucky bastard.

"Well?" He heard her say. He snapped out of his revere and saw she was looking at him, her gaze inquisitive and green, and her one eyebrow raised. "Are you just going to sit in the doorway all night? Come on, we've got at least three nights worth of movies to catch up on!"

He chuckled and made his way to her. He tentatively handed her the steaming cup and sat down beside her on the couch. He wrapped his arm tightly around her waist and she snuggled into his chest.

They sat in comfortable silence and watched the movie, content with simply being warm and together, in each other's arms.

They sat for many moments, until Jane spoke up.

"Okay, what's up?"

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"Something's been bothering you since we had coffee this afternoon."

"No… What do you mean? Nothing's been bothering me." She said, playing with a rebellious strand of ebony hair. A tell-tale sign of deception.

She really should know better than to try and lie to him. He is Patrick Jane, after all. And even more important than that, he knew her better than the back of his hand. He knew every fiber of her heart, every spark running through her mind, every sensation in her soul.

He could tell within a fraction of a second, from only a tiny tremor in her voice or a twitch of her hand, if she was lying of keeping something from her.

He chuckled and held her closer. "Come on Tess, I know you're lying." He coaxed her hand away from the strand of hair and kissed her knuckles. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"I know." She said, smiling. She was silly to think she could sneak any lie past him. "It's nothing, I promise. Please don't worry."

"Whatever you say, I'm going to worry about you." He said, teasing her. "I hate it when you worry. I much prefer your smile."

In reply, a shy smile spread across her face. "How's that?" She asked, looking up at him with teasing green eyes.

He groaned, knowing that she was playing him. She knew how to push his buttons just like he knew hers. And she knew he was a sucker for those eyes of hers. Especially when they were looking at him with a gaze so seemingly sweet and innocent, through those long black lashes.

She leaned towards him and gently kissed the corner of his mouth, seducing him most effectively.

"We're not done talking about this." He mumbled as she sat up to straddle him, her fingers buried deep in his curls.

"Yeah, I think we are." She said, continuing to kiss him thoroughly.

'It's no-" His sentence dissolved as he got lost in her kiss.

His last coherent thought before his brain went as well, was: _Damn, this woman is going to be the death of me…_

X

From the outside of the apartment, a strange car was parked. The inconspicuous red rental-Volvo didn't attract any attention from any of the many tenants living in the building; nor did the man, with the steel in his eyes, sitting inside of the car.

Ross Kings, equipped with night vision binoculars, a notepad and a jumbo-size pack of extra cheesy cheese curls, was sitting in the front seat.

He was watching the large window on the second floor, where the glow of a television was illuminating two figures. He clenched his jaw as he watched the one figure, slight and slender, get on top of the other in what could only be a passionate embrace.

He felt the anger surge through his every vein.

This wasn't going off well. His plan – the one he hatched the same night Teresa rejected him the same night he went off on her and – was well thought out and ingeniously devious, but the factor he had failed to take in account was his own reaction to the blooming relationship between her and his rival.

But now that he was on here, in the car, with the trans-fatty snack foods and the binoculars, watching the woman he loves and his nemesis make love on their couch, he would just have to swallow his pride and do what had to be done. Even though his ego and his pride made him want to, he knew he couldn't just barge into the apartment, knock out Jane and proclaim his love for Teresa. At the very least, that would result in the receipt of one of her nasty left hooks.

No, he would have to get her thinking and wondering first. He would have to make her remember him and everything she loved about him first, and discredit Jane as the terrible match he was.

He had to show her that he would be a much better husband to her than Patrick Jane could ever hope to be.

He had to show her that _he_ was the man she wanted, needed; he had to convince her the choice she made two months ago was wrong, and that she needed to change her mind.

Yes, Ross Kings was indeed a man with a plan.

He grabbed a handful of the bright orange snack food and stuffed it into his mouth, and a smug smirk spread across his face as he envisioned the plan in his mind's eye.

"Go ahead and desecrate my love all you want tonight, Patrick Jane. But she will be mine again. And you will pay for what you did…"

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**It feels nice to be back, writing this. I hope you liked this chap. Remember: Reviewing is love.**

**Much of it, Zanny**


	4. Chapter 4

**Red Reunion: Chapter 4**

**Thanks for the reviews, guys! Loving the positive response.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, still nothing.**

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She woke up when the sun, streaming through the windows and filling the room with a shining yellowy hue, stung her eyes and coaxed her out of the land Morpheus.

Her heavy eyelids fluttered and squinted against the unwelcome light and she stretched her arms out. The warm and familiar weight lying closely beside her, legs intertwined, made her smile. When she finally opened her eyes completely, the sight before her made a smile spread across her face.

Familiar crystal blue eyes greeted her, accompanied by her bedmate's signature wide, bright smile.

"Morning." He said, his voice low and groggy.

"Good morning."

They shared a lingering kiss. Jane dove his right hand into the tangled mess of her bedhead to deepen it, and at first he had little resistance.

But soon he was disappointed, when his green-eyed fiancé stilled him with a gentle hand on his chest.

"Wait, what time is it?"

Jane groaned; she remembered the thing he hoped she would forget: it's Monday.

Her green eyes flashed to the LCD-screen of the alarm clock by their bedside, and immediately widened in shock.

"It's past nine!" She yelled, falling out of bed and rushing to her dresser, pulling on whatever was on top of the heap. Jane sighed heavily and fell back on the pillow. He was disappointed for his loss of some morning loving – one of his favourite parts of being in a committed relationship with such a passionate, fiery woman – and all because of something as pitiful and annoying as going to _work_.

"What are you just lying there for? Come on, we're going to be late!"

"We're already late." He said, still lounging lazily on the bed. "Why don't we make it _very _late…" His voice was low and seductive.

"Jane…" She said in a warning-tone.

"Don't call me by a girl's name!" He whined like a child. He hated when she called him by his last name. Even though before their drastic turn in relationship she almost exclusively called him by his last name, the transition from Jane to Patrick post-New York was almost instantaneous.

Now she only called him Jane at work, or if she was angry or frustrated with him. And he had decided that, compared to the way _Patrick_ glided off her tongue so elegantly, the name Jane just plain sucked.

And besides, he was lying in their bed trying to persuade her into joining him, and she was calling him by a girl's name. It was quite the turn off.

"It's unprofessional to be late, Jane. Throw something on and _let's go!_"

"We can call in and say we had car trouble. We can stop the Citroen by the side of the road, I'll ram a door nail in the tire, make it look real authentic. And you know how long AAA can take…" He said, teasingly.

"You're willing to sabotage your Citroen for me?" Lisbon asked, mocking right back in a dramatically high-pitched voice.

"Well, I was going to suggest we use your SUV, but I know how much you like the Citroen's back seat, so…"

She responded to his mocking tone by throwing a shoe at him. He ducked and barely missed being hit in the head.

"Patrick…" She then said, her voice strained as she hopped on one leg, pulling her one shoe on. "If you don't get dressed in the next five minutes, I'm leaving without you."

He knew she was just playing with him. She would never leave without him.

But teasing back, he sighed dramatically and pushed his bottom lip out in a pout he knew would make her melt.

"Fine." He stood and quickly pulled on his favourite three piece suit. He knew she would wait for him in the doorway – she did.

As they walked down the hallway and out the front door together, her cellphone started beeping wildly.

She answered it briskly: "Lisbon. Oh, hi Cho. Yes, I know we're really late. We had some…" She closed her eyes and bit her lip in irritation. "…car trouble. You know how long AAA can take."

Jane struggled to muffle a chuckle, but was promptly silenced by her death glare.

"Okay, just go ahead and text me the address. We'll drive straight through… Okay, see you guys in a few minutes." She hung up.

"A case?" Jane asked with a self-satisfied smile on his face.

"Yup."

When they were both strapped into their seats in the SUV, he leaned in for a deep, lingering kiss.

"I want every morning to be just like this one."

"You want us to be late and bickering?"

"Yup." Another quick kiss before she starts the car and pulls out of the driveway at an uncharacteristic speed.

She tried and failed to hide the smile that tugged on the corners of her mouth. "You better hope we don't get into too much trouble because _you _didn't want to get up." She mumbled.

"Is _that_ why we're late. I'm pretty sure we're late because last night, you wanted me to…"

"Would you hush!" She yelled, the crimson blush staining her cheeks.

She loved how he could still make her blush like a schoolgirl.

They drove away towards the direction of the address Cho texted to her phone.

X

"Morning Boss." Cho said as the couple entered the house – the mansion of a renowned ex-senator, who had recently moved to Sacramento, to enjoy a peaceful retirement as far possible from his nightmare-inducing ex-wife.

"What do we got?" She asked curtly.

"Former Senator Joseph Pratt, age 82. Newly retired. Moved here a month ago. He was found last night by his household staff, shot once in the torso." He walked them up the stairs. "Where were you two anyway?"

"Like I said… Car trouble." Lisbon said, the discomfort of lying clear in her voice; Jane smiled secretively.

Cho shrugged. "Okay."

They arrived at the door and Cho slowly pushed it open, revealing the scene inside: the room was large, but crowded with the police officers and crime scene investigators – including Rigsby and Van Pelt - dusting for fingerprints and snapping pictures of the deceased Joseph Pratt.

He lay lonesome and cold on the bed, his crisp white shirt stained with crimson blood.

Clasped in his hand was a single white lily.

Lisbon walked closer to the body, her eyes rigged firmly on the flower in his hand.

"Lisbon?" Jane asked tentatively. There was something in her eyes that made him think she's seen this before. "Tess, are you okay?" He asked, quieter.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." She said as she snapped out of her revere.

"Boss, have you seen this before?" Van Pelt asked.

"I have. In New York." Lisbon cleared her voice. "It was a serial killer named the Funeral Master. He killed twelve people, men and women, at close range. And he'd place a white lily in the hand of every victim."

"You think this is him?" Rigsby asked.

"No. We caught him and sent him to prison more than a year ago. He died two months later. Let's just say he wasn't a well-liked member of the prison community."

"Oh."

"And besides, the wound isn't right. The Funeral Master would always shoot with the gun right up against the torso. This is a copycat for sure."

Jane's eyes didn't leave his fiancé – her body language was screaming out discomfort. Something was bothering her. Something has been bothering her for days.

He knew she felt guilty about hurting Ross Kings in New York, especially now that they were so happy.

He knew that her occasional flashes of guilt about Kings would eventually dissolve as their relationship matured. She would stop thinking about what happened and stop worrying about Ross Kings. But this was more than just idle guilt. Something serious was going on with her.

As the rest of the team continued looking around the room and interviewing the startled maid, Jane subtly pulled Lisbon aside.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." She said.

"Teresa, you can tell me anything." He took her hand in his.

She sighed looked down. "I had a hard time with this case back in New York. It was one of the first cases I worked on with the team and I was still pretty raw about leaving Sacramento. Ross… he helped me through the case. I probably wouldn't have made it through without him."

"Oh…" Jane said softly, feeling a small, familiar tinge of jealousy at the mention of his name. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, of course." She said. "It just brings back some memories. I'll be fine." She touches his arm gently, encouraging him with a small smile.

"Well, if it all gets too much, you know you can come and talk to me."

"Of course. You're my husband-to-be, aren't you? Now come on. We've got a case to solve."

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**The plot. It thickens.**

**Let me know what you think! **

**Much love, Zanny**


	5. Chapter 5

**Red Reunion: Chapter 5**

**Apologies to any Joseph Pratts out there. I grasped the name from thin air.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine**

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The whiteboard marker squeaked as Van Pelt drew on the clear board.

The team was sitting in the bullpen, steaming styrofoam cups in hand, discussing the evidence gathered at the scene.

"So this is what we've got so far." The former rookie said. "Ex-senator Joseph Pratt was found at 8 o'clock this morning by his housemaid. He's new to the city, and according to his staff he was a people-pleaser – many friends, very little enemies. Other than his ex-wife, who still lives in Washington. And, also according to the staff, Pratt was at a charity auction last night."

"When did he come back?" Lisbon asked, sipping her steaming brew tentatively.

"According to the security system, the electric gate was opened 11:23." Rigsby said, reading from a paper.

"I think we should check out if anything happened at that auction." Jane said, dipping the teabag in and out of the little blue teacup.

"Do you think Pratt may have gotten into an argument with someone at the function that escalated into violence?" Cho asked.

"No. The old fart was too much of a sell out for that. Every move in his career was made with the result kept in mind. No, he wasn't the kind of man who got into arguments. He was the kind of man who silently made the decision of what side would be most beneficial to be on and then take it. And if that fell through, spinelessly take the other."

"Please don't say that in the press conference this afternoon." Lisbon said, exhaustion in her voice.

The team chuckled – they'd been back and together for two months, engaged for one, but even being separated for two years and the new romantic relationship didn't dissolve the bantering manner in which they solved cases. They still argued and teased and shouted and threw stationery when the situation asked it. They were still the flawless team they were before.

The poor rookie that was supposed to fill Lisbon's space when she left for New York two years ago suffered a not-so-nice meltdown and retreated the field of law enforcement completely – he was now a tie-salesman in Milwaukee. Cho walked into Hightower's office one afternoon shortly after Lisbon's return and asked for a demotion. He said he couldn't fit into the new status quo – that he didn't think the leading position fit well. After a minor drama with the higher ups, it happened, and soon things returned to its usual optimum case-solving state.

The only differences were the few extra wrinkles around the eyes of the agents, two years later.

And the boss lady and the annoying consultant were about to get married.

"Okay, plan:" Lisbon commanded, her arms on her hips and her eyes not leaving the whiteboard. "Cho, you and Rigsby go to the auction organizer. Find out if there was anything interesting that happened that we should know about." Jane shot her a side glance, smirking that she's paying attention to his thoughts. "Van Pelt, see if you can try and contact the ex-wife in Washington."

"Done and done." The redhead said, typing away on the computer.

"Jane, you're coming with me. We're going back to the crime scene to ask some follow-up questions to the staff."

"Yes, Ma'am."

X

The day turned long; the interrogations were long and tedious and every lead turned up dry. Even Jane was stumped - there was no rhyme or reason to this crime. Every motive was covered by an airtight alibi, every enemy was out of state or even out of the country.

It was as if a ghost man had just wandered into a random mansion, shot a man he didn't even know in the chest and stuffed a white flower in his fist.

Not even a spot of evidence was left, and this frustrated the team to no end. Especially Jane.

"Teresa, I'm dead serious. I think we missed something huge. I don't leave cold cases. My entire shtick is that I _close_ cases."

"Hmm." She replied only with a small non-committing noise. She twirled a pencil between her nimble fingers, her mind somewhere far away.

"Teresa? We're going into overtime with no leads whatsoever. Why isn't that bothering you?" He put his hand to her forehead, taking her temperature melodramatically. "Are you feeling alright?"

She chuckled softly. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me. You know what, why don't you go and tell the team they can call it a day. We'll figure the rest out tomorrow."

He stood silently with his hands in his pockets, analyzing her expression from across the room.

Then: "Alright."

He briskly walked into the bullpen and told the team it was quitting time. When he returned to her office, she hadn't made a move. She hadn't straightened the flood of paperwork on her desk, she hadn't gone to grab her phone of handbag, and she was still sitting in her chair, her eyes dazed and far away, the pencil twirling swiftly between her fingers.

"Alright, Teresa. The jig is up."

This earned a small, amused smile on her face. "Jig?" She asked with laughter in her voice.

"Yes, jig. As in I, as your soon-to-be husband, am no longer going to sit here with you all mopey and melancholy. Tell me what's on your mind."

He sat down on her couch, patting the space beside him invitingly.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She attempted, her eyes going down to the twirling pencil. Honestly, not evens she knows why she bothers. If she's learned anything in her years working with Jane, it's that it's no use keeping anything from him. Especially when the man is in your head as much as he is in hers.

"Teresa."

His tone makes her look up. It's no longer that stubborn, melodramatic, slightly amused tone he likes to use when he messes with her. It's the tone that she just recently discovered, since they've gotten engaged. The gentle, clear tone that's just that much more intimate. The private tone that he reserved for her and her only.

"Please talk to me."

She sighed, then looked up at him with a small smile. Her green eyes grew only a little bit watery as she walked towards her spot beside him on the couch. "I don't want you to worry. It's not a big deal. But… I've been feeling a little weird lately."

"I've noticed as much." He said.

The look she shot him made him shut up immediately, zipping his lips.

"I've been thinking about Ross a lot lately. And not just feeling guilty about the whole 'heartbreak'-thing. Like this case: it just reminded me of him. And the other day I even thought I saw him in the traffic. I don't know… I just wish I set things right when I had the chance. It's eating me up."

Jane smiled slowly at her words and his arms snaked around her shoulder, pulling her close into a hug.

"The problem with _you_, Agent Lisbon…" He said. "Is that you are way too good a person. And even though the fact that you're thinking about this _other man_ all the time isn't all that fun for me, I can't help but love you even more for it."

"But what should I do?"

"I don't think I can answer that for you. You only left him two months ago. With time, you'll forgive yourself. You'll see that really you didn't do anything wrong and that no one can blame you. I love you, Tess, and you love me. And that's all that matters. You don't need to think about Ross. Ten to one, he's already getting over it."

"Well, that makes me feel great about myself." Lisbon grumbled jokingly, looking up at him with grateful green orbs to ensure him she's joking. "You always know what to say. Thank you, Patrick. I love you so much."

He smiled and leaned for a kiss.

"Now come on. Let's go home."

X

On the other side of town (the scaly bit) in a motel of questionably hygienic value, an unusually tall woman with long, bright red hair lit a cigarette.

The handsome man that picked her up by the road was freshening up in the bathroom. She really just wanted to get it over with.

This was definitely not the way she pictured herself to be paying the bills at 29 – only a few weeks away from the big three-oh.

But hey, that's life right.

She heard the door swing open, and the light from the bathroom spilled into the dimly lit motel room.

"Well?" She asked; her exhaustion was not quite concealed in her tone.

She didn't seem to notice the white lily that her male companion held in his hand.

Nor the gun he held poorly concealed behind his back.

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**What do you think? Please review!**

**Much love, Zanny**


	6. Chapter 6

**Red Reunion: Chapter 6**

**First, some answers to your questions. One, no, that wasn't Van Pelt. It was a redheaded prostitute. Second… I'm not giving anything away about the mystery lily killer. Maybe it's Ross, maybe it's not. And all motives and schemes will be written in due time.**

**Thanks for the reviews everybody!**

**Disclaimer: Nope, nothing is mine**

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They were called back to work in the early morning hours when the body of the redheaded prostitute was found.

Reluctantly, they dragged themselves up and to the address texted to her phone, to discover the grizzly scene.

The room smelt of mold and sweet disinfectant and many other more questionable things no one wanted to think about. The woman lay on the bed where she fell back; her slinky halter top was stained with blood and an ugly black-rimmed hole marked where the gun had been shot against her stomach. In her hand she clenched a pristine white lily.

The team watched their leader's face as she entered, Jane following closely behind.

They all knew how upsetting these crimes were for her – they were crime investigators, after all. They could tell that their (extremely bad liar of a ) boss was having a hard time with these murders.

However, in true Lisbon character, she kept her expression intact.

"It smells terrible in here." She commented, scrunching her nose.

"Yeah. Like dead body and bleach." Jane said.

"Do we have anything this time?" She asked the team, replied only by woeful no's.

"Alright. You guys stay and see if you can find anything. I'm gonna go downstairs and see if they have any record of this girl. Maybe we can get an ID."

"Doubtful." Jane said, strolling around the room with his hands in his pockets, quietly observing the scene.

She went downstairs anyway, without paying any mind to his comment.

"Okay, what's up with Lisbon?" Cho asked.

"She's just having a hard time with this case." Jane said without looking up.

"Yeah, we've noticed. Why is that?"

"You know why. It's just like the case she had back in New York. It brings back some bad memories."

"Are you sure that's all it is?"

He looked up, analyzing Cho's face; his expression was passive, but unnervingly intense.

"Yes. Of course."

X

As everyone expected, no there wasn't any name. The room was paid in cash, for the hour. No name, no nothing.

Do you remember who was with her? A man, officer. Caucasian, medium build, wore a dark hoodie. Didn't say anything, didn't do anything. Stood quietly behind the confident redhead who did all the talking in a confident, salacious tone.

In other words, other than the vague description, the man at the desk gave her absolutely nothing.

Lisbon sighed as she walked into the CBI Headquarters. Arriving at the scene was exhausting – the evidence was meager at best, the victim was still without positive ID and there was no clue around the identity of the killer. Nothing more than a vague, unsatisfying blur of a description.

The most the team could do right now is come back to HQ and wait for the results of Forensics' swabs and test tubes and see if CODIS got a hit on the victim's fingerprints. Maybe, if they got extremely lucky, there'd be skin under her fingernails or she'd have an extensive criminal records.

It was absurdly early to be in.

The first few overachievers of agents were starting to trickle in about now, and she and the team have been at it for hours.

_I would kill for some coffee right now. _She thought in frustration as she entered her office.

She was just through the doorway, when a delectable scent hit her.

Was that..?

Yes, it was.

A smile lit her face when she saw the Styrofoam cup placed smack in the middle of her desk. The delightful aroma of a fresh cup of steaming hot coffee emanated from it, filling the air in her office.

Gratefully she took the cup, letting the delightful warmth heat her cool hands.

She took the first sip – always the best – and enjoyed the feeling of the delectable dark liquid going down her throat, warming her body as it flowed through every vein.

It was just the way she liked it.

She sat down on her couch, allowing herself the few moments of caffeinated, blissful solitude.

"Teresa? Teresa, I wanted to talk to you about our victim." Jane said as he walked into her office.

Smiling, she stood up and threw her arms around him in a happy embrace. "I don't know how you did it since we drove back here together, but thank you. That was exactly what I needed. I love you."

Chuckling confused, he accepted the embrace. "Well, I'm not quite sure what you mean, but okay. I'll take the hug."

She pulled back to look at his face; confusion riddled her eyes and her smile shrunk just a little.

"The coffee."

"What coffee?"

"This coffee." She held up the now-empty Styrofoam up as evidence.

Now Jane was confused as well. "I didn't bring you this."

"It was on my desk when I walked in. I assumed..?"

"Teresa, I didn't bring you this coffee."

"Well then, who did?" She looked at the cup in confusion.

Then a memory that she thought was long forgotten came back to her:

_It's been a hell of a day. A grueling case in the middle of a heat wave on the other side of town, with New York City traffic on full blast. _

_She's spent the entire day in two locations: at the crime scene, in a rat-infested alley with overflowing garbage bins, and behind the wheel tensing up her shoulders in the traffic. Neither had been particularly fun places to be. She finally reached the New York precinct and made her way to her little office to get a head start on some of the paperwork depicting the impromptu confession of the grimy drug dealer. _

_This was going to be a long night._

_She was tense, tired and annoyed. All she needed right now was some energy, but she didn't feel like making the trip all the way to the kitchenette and fight her way through the crowd of big-boned uniforms just to get a cup of that disgusting black mulch they try to sell as coffee. _

_She trudged through the bullpen, giving an acknowledging groan as a greeting to her team. _

_The glorious scent waited for her in her office – a Styrofoam Starbucks cup, spreading the blessed aroma through her office._

_She took the warm cup in her hands, breathing in the scent. _

_On its side someone wrote: Have a nice day! _

_The handwriting was familiar; it brought a smile to her face. _

_Ross. _

After a while this became a ritual. Whenever they were having a tough time with a bad case, a mysterious cup of coffee would appear on her desk.

No one would say anything about it; only mysterious smiles would be shared as she sipped her coffee in the bullpen, or in the car on the way to the scene.

Lisbon fingered the top of the cup thoughtfully.

Another seemingly random event that sent her thoughts hurdling back to Ross Kings and New York City. It was really starting to get to her, and she knew Jane could tell.

Lately her thoughts have been travelling back, and not just in guilt like she told Jane.

As much as she hated to admit it, she still wondered what would've happened if she stayed with Ross instead of coming back to Sacramento with Jane. She doesn't regret her choice – she loves Jane more than she could ever express and she wants to spend the rest of her life with him. But there was still a part of her that wondered what if.

What would've happened if she chose to stay behind in the Big Apple and nurture her relationship with Ross? Would they have made it? Would they have been as good together as they hoped to be so many times?

Like it or not – and at many times, she did not – she had strong feelings for Ross. And now that she was about to get married to the man she left him for, the guilt and the wondering was starting to plague her.

And worst of all, she couldn't talk to anyone.

Normally she would've talked to Jane about something like this, but she felt too weird to _really_ talk about it. They were getting married in a few months. They were going to spend the rest of their lives together, and she was happy about it – she was _elated_.

She was just confused as well…

She didn't want to hurt him. He's been hurt enough. So she'd just have to find another way to cope with these weird feelings.

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**Tell me what you think?**

**Much love, Zanny**


	7. Chapter 7

**Red Reunion: Chapter 7**

**Thanks for the reviews, guys! Sorry for taking forever to update.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine**

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The case went cold within a few weeks.

Every lead that could've possibly been considered was followed into their respective dead ends; Jane analyzed and re-analyzed ever barely noticeable flinch and tick of every face that entered the line of questioning. But no one said or showed and resulted in anything.

Dead cold.

And it frustrated everyone involved.

No one more than Patrick Jane.

"I hate this." He mumbled. "I can't believe we're not getting _anywhere_. This is a serial killer! They're practically our specialty!"

"Correction: You can't believe we didn't get anywhere. Past tense. We're closing it."

"Come on, Teresa. Just keep it open for one more day. I know we can get somewhere."

"Jane, we've been through this. The higher ups and shoving us out; there are other crimes going on in California, you know. We can't keep dangling round a case we're getting nowhere with and that shows no signs of us _getting_ anywhere." She sighed, not looking up from the paperwork she was fervently filling in. "You gotta let go of this one."

Jane looked at her face for a moment, then looked back.

As much as it bothered him, it bothered him more how much it bothered her.

This case went deeper than just the cruelty of the gunshots and the perverseness of a funeral flower in their fist. It went deeper than the tragedy that went without saying; the loss of a son or a daughter, a mother or a father.

Because this stirred something dark and mysterious in the woman he loves; something he desperately wanted to solve.

He knew that there was something she wasn't telling him. But he also knew that pressurizing her to tell him would just make her push away – it was in her nature, a subconscious defense mechanism instilled in her since childhood. Questions equal pressure equals threat. Equals means to run.

No, she must come to terms with it herself and then come to him.

At her desk, Lisbon finished the last sentence on the paper she was filling in.

"Alright then. I think I deserve a coffee break."

"Okay then, I'll get my wallet."

"Uh…Would you mind terribly if I went alone? I mean, I've got a few other errands to run and I don't want you to get bored…"

It was a lame excuse.

If he was any other man, he would probably have been offended.

But he wasn't. He knew this was nothing more than her asking for a 30-minute break to breath and think a little. They've been spending 24 hours together since the engagement and it was only natural that she needed a little time to herself, after a lifetime of practically complete independence. And the end of this case – when her coming to him and telling him what it was that bothered her so was pending – it was definitely necessary.

"Of course. Have a little coffee, enjoy yourself. I'll be here. I love you." He said.

His perfect reaction made her smile and she walked over to where he lay on the couch to kiss his forehead lovingly. "I love you, baby."

X

She sat at the little coffee shop, sipping her latte and reading the paper.

She was so glad that Jane understood; really, she should've known that he would know exactly what to do.

This was just what she needed. A little time to sit and think about everything she's got going on.

Was she getting cold feet?

No, that wasn't it.

She was still giddy with excitement for the wedding. There was no sliver of doubt in her mind that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with the man. For the first time in her life, she was really happy. She woke every morning, smiling at the golden mop-headed man lying beside her, happy.

She took a long sip of her aromatic coffee and turned the page.

She sighed as she looked down into her cup; only the dark, sickeningly sweet remnants of her delicious brew remained. That was probably her cue to go. She's taken a long enough coffee break.

She paid the bill and started walking back towards where she parked the SUV down the street.

Her mind was still preoccupied, and she was probably not giving enough attention to the oncoming flow of people on the sidewalk, when she bashed full-speed into a hard body.

She stumbled back on the impact, tripping over the heel of her own shoe and grabbing the shoulders of the stranger to steady her.

"Woah, woah!" A strangely familiar male voice said. A deep voice, with a thick New York accent.

She looked up at the face that was connected to the steady arms that kept her from falling down on the sidewalk. Right up into the familiar golden brown eyes that have been haunting her for days now.

"Ross." She struggled with the word.

"Teresa." His tone was full of surprise.

"What are you doing here?" They chorused, followed by an awkward laugh.

"I was at a lecture in San Francisco. I'm just passing through." He said. "You look really good."

"Thanks." Realizing she was still, for all practical purposes, in his arms, she stood up and dusted imaginary dirt from her shirt. Then she realized something: she's been hurting lately because she felt that the relationship she had with the man standing _right in front of her_ didn't end right. Because she felt guilty that they never talked things through like they should've. Maybe this was her chance to set things right.

"You know, it's weird. I've been thinking about how things ended badly between us a lot lately."

"Are you still with Jane?"

"Yes. We're getting married in a few months." She looked down, without knowing why.

"Oh."

She was happy to hear that his tone wasn't _too_ dejected.

"Things have been reminding me about it a lot… Like there seems to be a copycat going around, copying The Funeral Master."

"Oh yes, I heard about that. Boss told me." He said familiarly. "Apparently news travels pretty fast. I can't believe that someone would copy a dead murderer, especially one from the other side of the continent."

"Yeah. It's pretty twisted."

"Well, I guess people can do some pretty twisted stuff when they've got a desperate moment and Google." He said.

"I guess." She shrugged. "They're making us throw it out. Lack of evidence. He killed two, no apparent connection at all. Then it all stopped. The case is ice cold."

"That must be hard." He said, as he started to stroll with her towards her car.

"It is. It's frustrating as hell. But I know we can't keep hammering on something that's never gonna give results. Crime isn't going sit still with us."

"I get it. Hey, would you like to grab a coffee with me? We have a lot to catch up on. I don't like the way things ended, Tess. We were friends before. I don't see how we gotta ruin our friendship over a break up."

A smile lit Lisbon's face. "I feel the exact same way. But you know, I just had coffee. Like three minutes ago." She said, giggling. "And I really gotta get back to work. The 'IN'-pile on my desk is taller than me. But when are you leaving for New York? We have to get a drink sometime."

"Well, I was actually going to drive tonight." He said, ruffling his hair. "But the office doesn't expect me back for a few days. And I think this is important. I could get a hotel room and maybe we can have drinks tonight. Have that talk."

"I'd like that." She said with a smile.

They reached her car and she unlocked it.

"But you know, Tess…" He said before she closed the door. "Could you maybe not bring your fiancé along? I'm all for the whole 'let's be friends again'-thing, but it's not that long ago that you left me for him, so…"

"I totally understand." She said. She agreed that having Jane sitting in on that conversation would be unnecessary and awkward for everyone.

"I'll call you." He said, with that same charming smile. But this time she didn't feel the same flutter, only relief that things were starting to look up. "It was nice to see you again."

"You too."

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**Uh-oh, troubles a-brewing! And I'm sorry if Lisbon is a tad OOC. I blame her bride-brain. Every woman is a bit coo-coo then, right?**

**Much love, Zanny**


	8. Chapter 8

**Red Reunion: Chapter 8**

**Loving all the reviews, guys!**

**This chapter is dedicated to calladragon. You might be retiring fanfic, and chances are you will never read this, but tribute must be paid. You were amazing and your fics will be missed. Keep well.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine**

* * *

At six o'clock, Lisbon was waiting in the bar on the ground floor of Ross Kings' hotel.

He called her earlier confirming the address and place. She sat at the bar, drinking her beer, waiting for him to come down. She was still wearing her work clothes; her dark jeans, grey T-shirt and leather jacket, not to mention to beer in her hand, made her look dreadfully out of place in the hotel bar filled with dressed-up tourists.

She wished he would just come down already.

The closer she got to the conversation, the more uncomfortable she started to feel.

This morning when she bumped into him, she felt fantastic about settling things. Their accidental meeting seemed like a stroke of fate; the universe finally deciding to cut her a break and set things right before she settles down with the man she loves.

But as the day progressed, she started wishing she could take Jane along, or at very least tell him. She understood Ross' point – in fact, on many levels she agreed with him – but this meeting was starting to feel too much like going behind his back.

And how could she expect Jane to be completely honest with her (which was on the very top of her list of things she expected since their engagement) if she wasn't doing the same?

For the millionth time that evening, her hand hovered over her cell phone in her pants pocket.

"Tess…" She looked up and saw him standing in the doorway. She smiled as he walked towards her; it's too late now, she's gotta stick it out.

"Hey. I just ordered a beer."

"That's fine. I'll take one too." He signaled to the barman who nodded.

They moved to a booth in the corner where they could have some privacy.

"So how have you been?" Ross asked as they sat down. "Really?"

"I've been good. I've been really good, actually. The wedding's only months away. There are some pretty tense moments in there, between the dress and the venue and everything, but Jane's pretty good with-" She stopped herself mid-sentence, realizing the turn her words were taking. "Sorry." She said, looking down.

"No, please don't be sorry. If we're going to go back to being friends like we used to, I'm going to need you not to worry about it. I'm glad you're happy. Even if it is with Patrick Jane." He said, smiling.

"That's really great of you, Ross. I really_ do _want to go back to the way things were. We were such good friends for so long. Hey, that reminds me, how's your sister."

"She's good. She met someone just recently. Things seem to be going well. I don't like the guy, but she seems to be really into him."

"Well of course you don't like the guy, you're her big brother. Do you remember that time she dated the guy from coffee shop?"

X

On the other side of the country, Emily Kings was pacing in her apartment. Her cellphone was glued to her ear as it has been for weeks; the dial tone beeping loudly and annoyingly for the millionth time in the last few days.

"Babe, would you stop stressing? I bet your brother is just fine." Her new boyfriend said from where he sat in the couch.

She almost rolled her eyes in front of him. Sweet as he is, the man could be a real idiot sometimes. He didn't even know Ross, he only met him briefly once and they didn't exactly hit it off. How would he know what Ross was capable of? And what was normal?

"I haven't heard from him in weeks. Even when he leaves town, he always calls me twice a day to remind me to take my pills."

"You know that you and your brother are creepishly close, right?"

"I've had this condition since I was a kid, Dale. And Ross has been taking care of me since I was diagnosed. It's nothing less creepy than the way your mom calls you every night before beddy-bye."

Dale started arguing, trying to save his manhood from being completely trampled, but she wasn't paying attention anymore.

Even when Ross was out of town (which was freakishly rare) or when he was at his very busiest (which wasn't so rare, being a crime detective) he would always – _always_ – make time to call her in the early afternoon and after dinner. Always. No exception.

A few weeks ago he disappeared. Work got a notice that he was taking all that piled-up vacation time he has; she got a text telling her he'd be out of town for a while.

Now that the vacation time was running out, people were starting to ask questions. Where is he? How long is he still going to be there? Why is he gone for so long?

And she was quickly running out of ways to elegantly say 'I have no clue whatsoever'.

It was freaking her out.

She's been calling him a million times a day, leaving message upon message, sending text after text.

No answer.

No reply.

Nothing.

If he decided to disappear mysteriously at any other moment in his life, she probably wouldn't have been so worried. But he chose to fall off the edge of the earth only months after his girlfriend left him for another man.

It wasn't that she wasn't happy for Teresa – after being friends with her for so long, she couldn't help but be elated that her long-time friend found true love. She was excited when she got the news that they were getting married.

Of course, on the other side, her heart broke for her big brother. She could tell that the break up hurt him more than he let on. She wasn't going to choose sides. She loved both people involved way too much. But somehow she got an inkling of a feeling that she'd be morally forced to choose Ross' side, if it came down to it.

She didn't want it to come down to that. She wanted Ross and Teresa to either make peace, or move on. She didn't want there to be any more drama. And she was pretty sure that if Ross was going anywhere near where she thought he was going there was going to be drama.

One of the people she loves was going to get hurt.

More than once since he left, Emily's had the urge to buy a plane ticket to California and take the red-eye to find her brother.

But she wasn't going to do that.

He would have to come back when he's ready. He had to get all the anger and hurt out of his system, if only by talking to Teresa one more time.

Until then she'll just have to wait. And worry.

She returned from her thoughts, and realized that Dale was still talking.

"…Em? Em, are you still listening to me?"

"Sure, of course."

"I said: Please relax. The man just needs some time to himself. From what you've told me, he's been through some pretty shitty times."

"Yeah, you're right. I'll try to relax."

She smiled and sat beside him on the couch, cuddling into her boyfriend's chest.

She didn't relax at all.

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**What'd you think? Comments please!**

**Much love, Zanny X**


	9. Chapter 9

**Red Reunion: Chapter 9**

**Disclaimer: Not mine**

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He was watching television on the couch when she returned later that night.

"Hey." She greeted, immediately throwing her handbag on the table in the hallway and taking off her shoes.

"Hey." He smiled up at him. "How was your night out?"

"It was good." She said, taking the spot beside him on the couch and snuggling in under his arm. "I kinda wished you were there, though."

"Really? You missed me? Awww…" He said, putting his hand on his chest melodramatically. "Teresa, that's so cheesy and adorable of you!"

He immediately regretted his teasing when he received a hard slap on the chest.

She crossed her arms and frowned adorably. "I'm not cheesy." She said, playing along mischievously.

"You're the very cheesiest." He said, kissing her neck lovingly. "And I love you exactly that way."

She hummed in appreciation as his lips moved up her neck to her lips.

But then she stopped him, placing her finger to his lips. He looked up with surprise and confusion. He was just getting into things…

"I'm not cheesy."

Blunt.

That's his girl.

He chuckles amusedly and continues kissing her.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." He mumbles into the kiss.

X

Emily Kings' call came through in that night.

"Hello?"

Her brother's voice was like music to her; she was so worried about where he was, if he was okay or not…

"ROSS! Oh my gosh, Ross, where are you?"

"Em? Didn't you get the memo? I'm on vacation." He chuckled coolly. "I'm in Chicago." He lied effortlessly, while pouring himself a cup of steaming coffee in his Sacramento hotel room. "I'm visiting a friend from college. Jake, I told you about him?"

"When are you coming back home? People are starting to ask questions about your little vacation which is turning out to be less than little."

"I don't know. I'm really enjoying this, Em, please let me have this break."

"Can you at least call work, then? I'm getting tired of not knowing what to say."

"Sure."

"Okay… How are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It's nice to relax a bit. It's been a long time coming. How are you? Are you taking all your pills?"

"Yeah."

"How things with that dud boyfriend of yours?"

"I don't know. I don't think we're gonna work out."

"Do I have to pretend to be sad?"

"No." She stifles a laugh. "I want you to come home, Ross. I don't like that you're away in hell-knows-where doing hell-knows-what."

"I told you, I'm in Chicago with my old buddy Jake."

"Yeah, and I'm Mary Poppins."

"You don't believe me?"

"I wish I did, Ross. But I don't. Please come home before you do anything stupid."

"What could I do?"

"You know what I mean, Ross. Don't play with fire. She's getting married soon."

"Are you talking about Teresa?" He asked, stubbornly sticking to his fake-confusion. "I'm across the continent from her. Look, Em, I get why you're worried. If the roles were reversed I'd probably be saying the same thing. But I'm taking this trip for the purpose of moving on. I'm not going to rub salt in my own wounds by going there and fighting a lost battle. I'm not an idiot." His voice turned small. "She chose him once, what are the odds she'll choose me now? Relax, Em. Keep covering for me. I just need a little while longer."

"Alright." Her tone was more resigned, as if she was starting to accept his words. "Please promise me you won't stay away too long. I miss my big brother."

A chuckle. "I promise."

"Take care of yourself, okay?"

"Okay. I'll see you soon."

Dial tone.

Ross sighs and stares at the phone in his lap for a while before he placed the receiver back down.

"I'm sorry, Em." He whispered into the silence. "I have to try. I have to make her mine again."

X

"I met Ross." She said.

They were lying in bed together, in the comfortable and warm silence she has come to love.

"What?" He asked, turning his head to look at her with confused azure eyes.

"Ross. I bumped into him today; he's in town for a while. We met for drinks tonight and-"

"You met for drinks?" Jane sat up, confusion turning to something more like anger. "How is that supposed to make me feel, Teresa? You're meeting with an ex-boyfriend!"

Her hand flew to his arm, in a futile attempt to calm him. He pulled away and started to get up, out of bed. "I know it sounds bad. I know that… But I promise that nothing happened and nothing's _going_ to happen."

"_Going_ to happen? You mean this is going to happen again?" He pulled on his pajama pants angrily. She flew up out of bed at this, refusing to let him leave.

"It might. Patrick, we started talking this out. You know how much the way it ended in New York has been bothering me. This is my one chance to clean all of that ugliness out. Ross and I used to be best friends…" She pulled one of his dress shirts over her shoulders to cover her bareness.

"Do you honestly think this is a coincidence? Do you think that your ex-boyfriend just showed up at your doorstep, fresh from the break up and months from our wedding, just as a coincidence?" He was shouting now.

His shouting made her angry, and she shouted back.

"You know, everything in the world doesn't have an ulterior motive!"

"Yes, but I promise you, Teresa. This guy has!"

"He hasn't. Trust me!"

"You're being naïve, Teresa."

"You're being unreasonable and _paranoid_."

"You're fooling yourself!"

"You're ridiculous!"

He saw tears sprung to his fiancé's eyes. She bravely and stubbornly fought to hold them at bay, but he saw them glisten in her angry green gaze none the less.

He felt something strange strain inside of him; making him want to keep himself from belting the next insulting retort.

"You don't know how damn wonderful you are." His tone was quieter and unexpectedly gentle the very heat of their fight.

It threw her completely. "W-What?" She stuttered in surprised.

He took a step closer to her and took her face in his hands. He lovingly caressed her cheeks with his thumbs.

"You don't realize that you're not the kind of woman a man just gets over. I spent two years being not-over you. Then I travelled across the country with full intention of winning you back. Ross _just_ got out of the break up. No normal person gets over a person that quickly, especially not one with as much history as you two. And I don't want to lose you. I really, _really_ hate sharing." He smiled softly, as his own eyes got a little wet. "I don't feel comfortable that you kept this from me."

"I kept it from you because I knew you'd react this way. But I hate lying to you…" She looked down regretfully. "I'm really sorry that it upset you. But I need you to realize that I can't just leave it now when we just started working through things. We had drinks for one hour and already things are starting to feel normal."

"I'm not sure I'm okay with this… But I do understand it."

"So you support me?" She looked up at him with hope.

He hesitated before answering. "I won't make a scene when you go next time. And I won't start any fights. I hate fighting with you…" A small smile that set her at rest. "But please – _please_ - keep your guard up. I don't want to lose you."

"You won't. He won't try anything. I know Ross, and he's not good enough a liar to fake being sincere."

"Fine. But if he _does_ try anything, I'll break his neck and shove it down a shredder. Deal?"

"Fine." She chuckled. "I can't believe you."

He frowned in confusion.

"You're amazing. When did I get so lucky?"

"I think you got it wrong way round, darling. But you know what just happened?"

She raised her eyebrow in query.

"Our first serious argument as an engaged couple. And you know what _that_ means…"

She giggled when he started kissing the spot behind her ear seductively. "Make up sex…"

"I love the honeymoon period." She huskily uttered as he lifted her up back onto the bed.

They were interrupted by the buzzing, screeching sound of her phone ringing on the bedside table.

"Oh come on!" He groaned as she moved to answer her phone with an apologetic smile.

"Lisbon?" He sat beside her on the bed and watched as she talked to whoever it was calling at this ungodly hour. He watched the way a rebellious ebony curl bounced off of her neck; how her shoulder curved elegantly into her slender neck.

He was right; he _was _the one who got lucky here. And though he tried his best to be supportive and loving and amazing when he saw those tears well up in her eyes (beautiful eyes that should never – _ever_ – have to cry), the anger was still bubbling inside of him.

He's never liked Ross.

Ever.

And now the guy just magically shows up in Sacramento?

He smelled a rat.

He was just getting used to being with her; just getting used to how amazingly warm she felt in his arms and how lovely her presence was 24/7. And he wasn't willing to give that up _ever_.

Finally, after years of celibacy and living in a dark, depressed world, he found his angel. He found her and got the ring around her finger. Ross Kings wasn't going to mess that up. He wasn't going to spoil the happiness that he and Teresa had finally found in each other's arms.

He knew that he didn't deserve her – such a beautiful, passionate, caring and tender woman was far out of his league.

Logically she should've gone with the old-friend-gone-boyfriend, not him. But she did.

Because of love.

And after all that he's been through, love wasn't something he was letting go.

She hung up the phone.

"Sorry, baby. Make up sex will have to wait." She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "There's been a murder. We gotta go."

"Fine." He said begrudgingly. "But we're coming home for lunch."

She giggled, and he smiled at how light and happy seeing her smile made him feel.

"Can I have my shirt back?" He asked with a mischievous smile.

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**That took a pretty romantic turn, huh? Review please!**

**Much love, Zanny**


	10. Chapter 10

**Red Reunion: Chapter 10**

**Hi guys! Sorry for not updating in eternity, but I've kinda been away from my wifi. We just got a chance to get the USB stick set up. Also, as I'm updating, I realize the irony of me updating Red Reunion, since I'm currently at my mother's high school reunion. (It's very awkward, thanks for asking). Sorry for the long wait. Love you all! Happy Easter! X**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine**

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Teresa Lisbon and Patrick Jane arrived an hour late to the crime scene.

"Where were you?" Rigsby asked as they entered the scene.

"Car trouble." The couple said in unison, giving each other not-so-discreet side glances.

"Dude, you gotta get that car checked out. One of these days you guys are gonna die the way that thing keeps breaking down."

No one replied to Rigsby's comment, but there were several suppressed chuckles.

"So when was the body found?" Lisbon asked, going straight back to business as she marched down the hallway to the bedroom.

"The woman's roommate found her this morning when she returned from her walk of shame." Cho said, indicating a woman with bleached hair and red-rimmed eyes that sat sobbing on the couch. "Apparently she and the victim were out clubbing last night. She left her at a local bar at about eleven to go home with a gentleman caller. Apparently the victim had a conquest of her own…"

"You think he's the murderer?"

"Seems most likely. He was definitely the last one to see her alive."

"Rigsby:" Lisbon turned to him. "Find out the name of the bar from the roommate. See if you can get any sort of ID on her 'gentleman caller'."

"Will do, Boss."

Rigsby exited the room to go talk to the roommate while the rest of the team stayed to observe the room.

Her short, white party dress was stained with bright, bright red; in the center of the ugly stain was a black rimmed hole.

The wound was hauntingly familiar; it could've been a copy-paste from any of the recent Funeral Master-murders.

"Are you seeing this wound?" Jane asked quietly, standing close beside him.

"It's uncanny."

"Do you think it's the Funeral Master? You think the case is open again?" Hope in his voice.

"No. There's no flower; she's lying on the ground beside the bed and not on it. The only real consistency is the kind of gunshot wound and that could be a coincidence. It'll never hold up."

"Hmm… You're right. The Funeral Master – and his copycat – is a textbook serial killer. Methodical and consistent. Serial killers do what they do party because of a compulsive need to commit violence or take a life, but also because they get a sick thrill from the attention they get. He wouldn't have killed her like this and not left his signature. It would mean losing the thrill of seeing his name in the paper. Unless…"

"Unless?"

"Unless the copycat isn't killing for the thrill of killing like the original killer. Then he doesn't have the typical serial killer-mentality. That means that his murders here in Sacramento are about something more personal. It isn't about taking the place and image of the Funeral Master anymore…"

"So he has an ulterior motive?"

"Something like that."

"And that is?"

Jane stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. "I have no idea."

"Thank you, that's helpful." She chuckled. "It's also one of the longest shots you've ever asked me to believe. More likely it's just a nut who decided to kill his date. On close range."

"You're right, that is more likely."

"What do you mean by that?" She turned towards him with her hands on her waist.

"What do I mean by what?"

"When you say it like that? I thought we had an agreement. No more keeping information from everyone else. Or else."

"I honestly don't have any more information, Teresa. Cross my heart." He crossed his heart and held his hand up to express his honesty.

She studied him for a few minutes more through suspicious eyes, then shrugged and said, "Fine."

They walked out of the bedroom together to catch up with the rest of the team. "Just for interest's sake, what exactly is '_else_'?"

"A five letter word, starts with 'c'. You love it at work, not so much at home."

Jane thought for a little while, then lit up with a triumphant smile as he figured it out. "Couch!" His triumphant smile fell off his face as he realized what she meant. "Yes dear, of course dear."

She laughed. Before she could make a witty comment about how he finally learnt his place in the relationship, the pocket of her jeans started buzzing wildly.

She fished the phone out of the jean pocket and checked the caller ID.

Jane watched as her expression changed when she read the name. Her mouth opened but no words came out and she frowned; she wanted to tell him who it was, but obviously something was holding her back.

He didn't have to be a mentalist to figure out who was calling.

"Go ahead, answer it."

"Really? You sure?"

"Two minutes. Then I'm grabbing the phone from you and yelling into it in a jealous rage." He joked, smiling crookedly to let her know he's only half-joking.

"Two minutes." She said with a promising smile, then turned and walked a few feet away to politely take the call out of earshot.

It didn't keep Jane – who was still sauntering rather close-by – from eavesdropping.

"Hi." She greeted. He was happy that she used her friendly-'hi' – the one she used with her old friends-turned-bridesmaids, or someone from the team – and not what he has come to know as her boyfriend-'hi'.

Teresa Lisbon was not someone you'd expect to have something like a boyfriend-'hi'. But when their relationship made that all-important leap from colleagues-turned-friends to colleagues-turned-friends-turned-couple, he started nothing the most delightful set of secret quirks that Lisbon has in her personal life.

He knew all along that work-Lisbon and home-Lisbon were two completely different people; but after moving in together and sharing moments that were so severely off-limits on several different levels before, he discovered relationship-Lisbon. An entire different species on her own. She was the part of Lisbon that did silly adorable things like go through wedding magazines when she's alone, and want the perfect wedding, and got unintentionally cheesy and then denied it. She was the part of her that so rarely reared her head because a tough life and some idiotic bastards traumatized into hiding.

She was also the part of her that spoke in a special tone to her significant other on the phone. A shy 'hi', one that made a soft, pink blush creep up her cheeks, and with a smile you can hear clearly over static. It is both heart-crushingly adorable and inexplicably sexy. It got to the point where he could no longer text or leave voicemail messages. He'd call and call over and over again until she answered so he can hear her say 'hi' in that special way.

And the good part here was that she didn't use that tone with Ross.

Which made him happy much more than he'd admit out loud. Mostly because he knows that Ross, as an ex-boyfriend that Teresa had admitted to loving once, _had_ heard her greet him like that over the phone before. And he can only imagine being greeted with Teresa Lisbon's unsatisfyingly pleasant friendship-'hi', after you've been recipient of an oh-so-intoxicating boyfriend-'hi'.

It must be torture.

And he wasn't above feeling slightly smug and superior. Ross Kings was, for all practical measures, his nemesis. And if the nemesis gets cut down to size, you're not going to be shedding any tears.

He was snapped out of his bubble of thought when Lisbon returned from her call.

"I'm meeting him again tonight. We're going to a restaurant to have dinner."

"Dinner?"

_That stung more than anticipated…_

She caught the reaction. "I thought you said you were okay with this?"

"I thought I was… But for some reason there's a bit of a difference between drinks and dinner." He said wearily running a hand through his hair.

"I'll change it if it bothers you?"

"No. I'll get over it. You go and have dinner and get past whatever it is you need to get past. If this helps you, then I'm not going to stand in your way." He gave a small, reassuring smile to her, even though inside his stomach felt like lead. He walked a step closer and kissed her forehead. "Just know that I love you more than anything, okay. More than anything."

She sighed and enjoyed the little private moment outside the crime scene. Soon, however, she remembered just where they were and broke the contact.

"Come on, we've got work to do." And the lightening-fast transition from relationship-Lisbon to work-Lisbon flashed through as she marched to the car. "You coming?" She looked back and smiling, he walked behind her.

He knew that there wasn't a sincere thing in Ross' requests to see her and talk about what's been done. It was clear as day to him what his real motives were. But telling Teresa that wasn't going to help anything; the things she was struggling with were hard on her, and with the stress that a bride – any bride, even the strongest of brides – go through before the wedding, he didn't want to risk her getting cold feet over the memory of an ex.

Their relationship was strong enough to go through a little bump like Ross. What was the worst that could happen? He'd pretend to be sincere for about three days tops, then he'd break down into a pathetic heap and beg Lisbon to take him back. She'll be disgusted with the fact that he pretended to try and repair their lost friendship, and realize what his intentions were all along.

She'd be angry – rightfully so - but she'd finally be able to put it behind her and walk down the aisle with her conscience clear.

He'd be able to give her that. Even if he had to restrain himself from attacking the little mongrel and wringing his neck.

* * *

**So there was some protective Jane in there (which I think is pretty damn sexy, so deal.) I wanted to do a little more, but I already passed 1500 words and if I pass that it just gets annoying to read. So more next time! Preview: the dinner. And more Emily.**

**Much love, Zanny**


	11. Chapter 11

**Red Reunion: Chapter 11**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine**

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Teresa entered the restaurant with her mind on one thing and one thing only. And it probably wasn't what it should've been for the transaction with her ex to be all that successful. Maybe if her mind was on its most alert, she would've picked up on the tiny little details and saw something like this coming. But she didn't.

She was thinking of her soon-to-be husband.

Jane's reaction, which on many levels seemed too good to be true, was shaking her. She's known Jane for years and in those years he's proven to her, time after time, that he is as sucky with sharing as she. And then some. In fact, in the years that they worked together, she was often baffled by his almost childlike reactions when asked to share. Why one earth would that behavior change now? And especially when the object in question wasn't a cookie or a piece of pizza, but his _fiancé._ She knew that _she_ didn't see this as sharing, but she knew Jane well enough to know that when he gets as jealous as his tone suggested, he'd see it exactly that way.

She also knew Jane well enough to know that his fantastically perfect reaction was suspicious. And that whenever things fell too easily in place with her soon-to-be-husband, as they did now, it meant that he had a plan forming somewhere in that damned memory palace of his.

She knew that walking into what was supposed to be a peace-making meeting with her ex while thinking of her new fiancé was playing with fire, but every time she caught herself and averted her thoughts to re-befriending Ross, her thoughts would eventually drift back to Jane's words: _You go and have dinner and get past whatever you need to get past. If it helps you, I'm not going to get in your way._

The damn definition of suspicious.

Whatever was making him be so nice and perfect, came with its own evil laugh.

The restaurant, which was situated uptown enough not to be downtown, and expensive enough to be considered fancy without you having to buy a new dress to eat there, was packed to the brim as she entered. To keep from looking too out of place, she wore her fancy black jeans and one of her nicer tops. She still wore her normal shoes, though. While getting dressed (with Jane lying unceremoniously on the bed, commenting on the way she picked out her top and jeans), he laughed at her refusal to even consider the heels.

Maybe _that_ was why she was so suspicious? How he went from 'reluctantly letting you go because I love/care for you' to 'I'm gonna help you pick out your outfit!' He said it was to make sure she didn't wear anything too suggestive (with a joking tone and a side-comment of "That's only for me…"), but it still made her feel weird about it.

It wasn't like she wanted Jane to resist her transactions with Ross – she really wanted to fix what was broken between them – but the fact that he _didn't _want her to go, that he wanted to keep her his and only his, made her feel special in a way. Was that terrible? Was she a terrible, incisive little girl who wanted the best of both worlds?

She was frustrating _herself_.

She was abruptly pulled out of her flurry of thoughts when she heard Ross' voice somewhere behind her.

"Hey." He greeted, smiling his crooked smile. "You look nice. I got a table over there." He said, directing her to the table with a gentle hand in the small of her back – not low enough to be intimate, but it lingered like his touches always did. She wondered why she never had a problem with it before, but now seemed to. She was friends with him while being in relationships with other men before..?

"Thanks." Her reply might've been a little late, but rather late than never.

They exchanged the standard pleasantries – _How was your day? Do you like your hotel? Are things still good in New York? –_ all while avoiding the great big elephant that sat in the room (and on her left hand ring finger), until the waiter came to their table and took their order.

They ordered their respective meaty treats and a bottle and a bottle of Chardonnay for the table.

And that's when the shit hit the fan.

Lisbon's phone started buzzing wildly and she took it out of her pocket, intending to either send it to voicemail or take it out of polite company. But the caller ID made her eyes widen just a bit and a smile light her face.

"Look who's calling!" She said with a wide smile, then answered the phone. "Hi Em!"

Ross realized what was going on too late and couldn't stop it. He only sat and watches as his plan slowly came undone.

"_Tessie! How are you?"_

"I'm fine, thanks! Em, I can't believe your timing! I'm literally having dinner with Ross right now. You want to talk to him?"

Silence. Then: "_That sonofabitch, I knew he was there!"_

"What?"

"_Tessie, I don't know what's going on, but I spoke to Ross over the phone yesterday and he swore high and dry that he was nowhere near Sacramento or you. He lied to me. I don't know what's been going on lately, he's been acting like a crazy person and then he took a forever-long vacation to wherever. Sacramento, I guess."_

Automatically – partly because of habit and partly because she's not stupid and can pin a scaly situation when she sees/hears one – Teresa's face schooled itself into a pleasant, conversational montage of expressions.

"Yeah, we bumped into each other day before yesterday. A total coincidence. He was in San Fransisco, headed back your way. You know I heard there was a new boyfriend... Tell me about it!"

"_Is he listening? Nice save. Listen, I know Ross better than anybody and he's never done anything like this before. But I also know how special you are to him and how shattered he was when you left. I'm just afraid he'll do something he'll regret. I'm gonna take the red-eye to Sacramento. Maybe seeing me in person would slap some sense into him. But just be careful in the meantime, Tessie."_

"Okay, I will. You go do that. Send my love, sweetie, we'll talk again soon."

She hung up and managed a smile. "Em sends her love."

"Is that all?" He asks. She tries to tell herself she's imagining the darkness in her former best friend's tone.

"Yup. Oh, and things are going well with her new boyfriend. But I think you're right, he doesn't sound right for her. I give it another week." She took a sip from her wine, not knowing what else to say. She was grabbing things to say out of the air and she was running out of things to grab.

All the things Jane said about Ross' motives not being pure sprang up in her mind.

For the first time, it really occured to her that maybe he was right. Just because she was desperate to set things right didn't mean he necessarily was. Just because she wanted things to go back to the way they were before they were a couple and before she broke it off to be with Jane, didn't mean he wanted it to.

It was glaringly obvious that things weren't right. The way Emily sounded on the phone and the way Ross reacted to her talking to her.

Something was wrong.

She left her gun on the coffee table at home. Why would she need it, she was going out with a friend? She knew that Ross could overpower her easily; he's had the same training as her and he was almost twice the size and weight.

Teresa Lisbon isn't any damsel in distress; she chose a career where it was regulations to carry a gun and where she received training to kick any bad guy's ass.

But right now, she was scared.

She wanted to believe that Ross was still the great guy he was before, but all the evidence points to 'no'. What can she do?

"You know, I'm kinda tired." She said when she put down her glass. "I think maybe we should skip dessert. It's been a hell of an exhausting day and I feel like dead on feet."

"We haven't even started to talk it out yet." He said with a small chuckle.

"I know, I'm sorry. Maybe we can reschedule?"

"Or we could do it now."

Something about his tone made a shiver she couldn't quite contain roll down her back.

"Okay. Let's get to it then. How do you feel about the break up?"

"How do I feel? Wow, Tess, that's really psychologist-y of you." Another small chuckle. "Let's see, how do I feel? Well, I'm not gonna lie to you. When you first broke up with me, I was mad. I was extremely mad. I wanted to punch out walls, I was that mad."

A stab of fear in throat.

"But then I thought that me punching walls wasn't going to help anyone. It wasn't going to make me any happier, it wasn't going to bring you back to me. So I decided to go on a little trip. Which I'm sure Emily told you all about."

She started to protest, but he hushed her to silence.

"No worries, I know she did. And I'm not going to lie and say my motives weren't to win you back at first. It's completely natural for me to want that, don't you think? I mean, you've been my best friend for years now. And after all that time of having all that chemistry that we could never act on because you were my sister's roommate, or you lived on the other side of the country, we finally got together. And we were practically a legitimate couple there for a minute. You're the woman of my dreams, Tess, you've always been." He clears his throat. "So anyway, my travels bring me to Sacramento. And I meet you here. And I see that you're happy with that blonde creep you chose over me. And I love you, Tess, so I'm happy that you're happy. I would never do anything to hurt you."

She finds her voice. "So you're saying that you got over me here? That you've decided to go back to be just friends after seeing me and Jane together?"

A smile; darker than she ever thought she'd see on him. "No. No, that's not what I decided."

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**Oooh, creepy! What'ya think? Good? Not? Creepy? Not? Let me know! Just click on that little blue link below and it'll send you to a magical land where you can tell me your opinions, thoughts and ideas in megapixel-form!**

**Much love,**

**Zanny X**


	12. Chapter 12

**Red Reunion: Chapter 12**

**Hi guys! Sorry for taking so long. It's been school holiday and I was at the All Girls' Festival – a four-day sports and culture competition where I debated for my school. So no writing time for me. Also, I'm really evil and I like to build suspense :P**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine**

* * *

She said she'd be back by eleven. Midnight at the very, _very_ latest, if they had dessert _and_ coffee _and_ there was traffic.

He hadn't meant to wait up – she wasn't a teenager, and he wasn't the kind of obsessively possessive boyfriend who wanted to monitor where she was every moment of the day – but the bed was cold and lonely with her gone and sleep didn't come easy. He came downstairs to try the old warm-milk trick, when he saw the time. Upstairs he avoided looking at the alarm, mostly to prove to himself that he wasn't that paranoid. But in the kitchen the large wall-clock was harder to miss as it read - loud, clear and glaring – half past two.

He knew Teresa better than the back of his hand, and one of her most prominent characteristics is her punctuality. If she knew that he was home, even if he wasn't waiting up, she'd send him at least a text saying she'll be coming in late. It's an after-effect of her career, where punctuality creates good impressions, and good impressions can make a career. She's never late. To or from any meeting.

And with that one glance at the wall clock all the thoughts he never wanted to entertain flashed through his mind: she's with Ross Kings. She's with _Ross Kings_. Her ex-boyfriend with the clear-as-day motive to win his woman back. Who, he knew, was not at all above taking drastic measures.

Immediately he started searching for his phone. He ran upstairs and checked on every flat surface he's ever put his cell phone down on. Then he dug through the laundry hamper, found his pants, and fished into each pocket.

Finally, he found the phone in the left front pocket of his crumpled-up work pants.

He hurriedly dialed her number, silently praying that she'd answer with a surprised hi, fervently apologizing that she lost track of time while discussing why she and her ex should remain friends.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings, four...

Soon he lost count of the rings, just listened intently to the mocking monotone, hoping with all he has to hear her voice.

He did.

"_This_ _is Teresa Lisbon, please leave your name and number after the tone and I'll get back to you as soon as possible." – _Beep –

His heart nearly stood still right there.

Panting from anxiety, he swallowed and went to sit down on the floor, staring at the phone which was still blazing that louder-than-life silence, waiting for you to say something.

He hung up.

It was no use.

The rational part of his mind told him he was being paranoid. Chances were she and Ross just lost track of time. Her phone's battery went dead.

But he knew that the reality was probably much worse. Now, in retrospect, he realized that he let her walk into a situation where she was exceptionally vulnerable. What was there to stop Ross from getting her drunk and taking advantage of her? Or slipping something into her beer? Or worse...

He knew from working with cops for many years, that many police officers have a violent streak. What would he do if Ross' came out in his desperation and he did something to Teresa?

How would he live knowing he let that happen?

How would he live without her?

He wouldn't. He couldn't.

He was a fool for thinking it would be safe to let her go out with this man. He failed to think how he would've handled it if she chose Ross over him – he would've done everything in his power to win her back, especially if she was acting so enthusiastic to stay in contact with him. Of course, his methods would've been mentalism and such. But Ross doesn't have such weapons at his disposal. The weapons Ross has are more in the line of police training and a state-issued weapon...

After a few moments of sitting perfectly still on the floor, with his eyes wide in shock, and his hands trembling, he regains enough composure to still his fingers enough to type a number into the phone.

He shakily brings the phone to his ear and listens to the ringing, until a groggy, sleepy voice answers curtly: "Cho."

"Cho, we've got an emergency." Even with his developed mental abilities, he can't keep his voice from shaking. "We've got an emergency. Call the rest of the team, I'll meet you at the CBI in fifteen minutes." He hangs up before Cho can protest or ask anything.

Before he drives to the CBI, he sits for another five minutes and calls her number, listening to the voicemail-recording of her voice, telling him over and over to leave his name and number.

X

Fifteen minutes later, Jane is pacing in the bullpen. The rest of the CBI building is pitch dark, and the lights above his head buzz annoyingly, while spewing their yellow light harshly onto the surface below. The night guard reluctantly trudged from his post to unlock the door for him, and the rest of the team will be arriving in minutes.

Since his arrival, he's called her phone another twelve times. It goes the same every time: six rings, then voicemail. Six rings, then voicemail.

Teresa hates the sound of a ringing phone. If she had her phone with her, she wouldn't ignore it. She also goes into a state of semi-panic if her phone goes dead or is off – she convinces herself that every important political figure in the state will be killed off and no one would be able to reach her – so there's no way she would've turned it off or left the house with her phone uncharged.

He's eliminated every possible excuse for her inability to answer the phone.

Now he's absolutely convinced that there's something seriously wrong.

"Jane, what's the emergency?" Cho walked in, wearing tidy clothes but a weathered and tired expression.

"Where's the rest of the team?"

"They're on their way. This better be good, it's like two in the morning."

"It's three. Teresa's missing."

Cho's eyebrows rose and his face was decidedly unimpressed. "You called us in at three in the morning because boss is missing? Are you kidding me? She's probably just out somewhere!"

"No, see, she was going out with Ross Kings for drinks because they walked into each other and the way things ended bothered her... Anyway, long story short, it's four hours since she said she'd be back from her meeting with her deranged ex who happens to own a gun and she isn't answering her phone."

"You let your fiancé go out to dinner with her deranged ex?"

"I know. I was an idiot. But she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, and..."

"Hey guys, what's up?" Rigsby and Van Pelt showed up – Jane quickly discarded any intention to bring the fact that they arrived together up – both wearing equally tired expressions.

While Cho retold the current situation, Jane tiredly plopped down his couch and sat with his heads in his hands. He felt like his world was falling into ruins again – first he lost his wife and child, completely shattering his life. He almost lost the only thing that kept him breathing in his half-life after it, the woman he came to love more than anything in the world, by the hands of two serial killers in a twisted collaboration. And now he was going to lose her to _this?_ To a psychopathic ex-boyfriend with a happy trigger-finger?

It couldn't end this way.

Not after everything they've been through.

He couldn't let it; they had to find her.

"What do you suppose we do?" Van Pelt asked him. He realized for the first time that while he's been stuck in his twisted, heart-wrenching world, the team has been talking all along.

"I don't know. The restaurant will definitely be closed by now, we can't even call to ask where they went."

"Do you have the name of his hotel?"

"No. Nothing."

"We can check his credit card account."

"At three in the morning? We'll need a warrant for that."

"We'll pull some strings."

Jane looked up at the faces in front of him. While he was drowning in a world of pity and heartache, their faces were adamant and stubbornly strong-willed. It gave him just a glimmer of hope in a situation that left him hopeless.

"We have to find her." His voice broke.

Van Pelt took a step towards him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We will."

* * *

**Next chap: what Ross is doing with Lisbon! REVIEW NOW!**

**Much love, Zanny**


	13. Chapter 13

**Red Reunion: Chapter 13**

**Thanks for the reviews, guys! We've passed the 100 mark! :) HOORAY! **

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine**

* * *

"I can't believe you're doing this." Her voice was strained with anger and disbelief.

"There's a lot of things about me you won't believe, Tess." Ross said behind her, as he tried to get handcuff her wrists through the headboard of the bed while she was struggling against him with surprising strength. With one mighty wrenching action, he yanked her wrists into the metal cuffs roughly. "You leaving me changed me. You'll see soon enough."

"I'll see _soon enough_? Yeah Ross, I think I'm seeing it already." Her tone was bitter.

"You'll grow to love it, Tess. I know you will. Just like I've grown used to all of your nasty little traits. Like this terrible temper of yours." He patted her thigh in a manner which couldn't have been misinterpreted as fond as he clambered off the mattress.

She huffed angrily, but held her tongue when she felt the flood of profanities threaten to escape. Her eyes wandered to the government-issue weapon that lay on the bedside table, within arm's reach.

They were somewhere in the city in a sleezy motel; the type that was used to getting guests at these ungodly hours; the type that regularly entertained hookers and cheating husbands and – yes – even the occasional crazy ex-turned-stalker-turned-kidnapper.

After his revelation in the restaurant, Ross had ushered her out the restaurant with her arm in a death grip. Somewhere, on the way to the car, his gun had appeared pointed threateningly into her back. Soon they were driving through the city – her hands handcuffed uncomfortably in the same cuffs that used to be a symbol of order and justice to her, but now was just unspeakably pinchy - with him always keeping a menacing eye on her. He threatened her, saying that if she yelled or spoke, he would not only kill her but go back and kill Patrick. He had the expertise and the motive of revenge – she knew he could if he wanted to. And the cold, unfamiliar look in the eyes of the man she used to know, told her that he really, _really _wanted to.

So she sat perfectly still and listened to whatever command her captor gave her. She watched him drive into the darkest, deepest parts of downtown Sacramento and pick out a hotel that looked like it carried the highest concentration of STD's in a sheet and paid cash for a room.

The only thing she could think of was the face of the man she loved; the blue-eyed, blonde-curled, mischievously-smiling face. His voice, telling her it'll be okay. And his words, saying that Ross' motives weren't as pure as hers. She should've listened. But in her defense, the man in front of her was certainly not Ross Kings. At least not the one she knew. This was some crazy-eyed, pacing imposter whose smiles weren't wide and inviting, but leering and snide. Still, she wished she had listened for once. Maybe then, if she had let herself let go of her guilty feelings towards Ross and stopped their meetings when Jane found out, and told Ross that it wasn't appropriate, she was an engaged woman, she would be in the warm, loving arms of her fiance right now. Sleeping soundly and satisfied, without a care in the world other than what dress to wear. She would've been just another happy bride-to-be.

But she didn't.

And now she was in this horrible situation.

She shuddered to think what Ross was going to do to her. She didn't want to even entertain the thought; she just wanted a miracle right now. For him to crack up in his old, joking smile that wasn't at all creepy, and say "Gotcha!" like he used to when they were much younger. For this to be _not_.

Ross moved to the bathroom, which was only a few steps away in the small motel room. He washed his hands in the basin – so dirty, it might've defeated the purpose – before returning to lie down beside her on the bed.

He snuggled in by her side, lying uncomfortably close and looking up at her smiling like he used to when they were together. Apparently he wasn't happy with the look he got in return.

"DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!" He yelled, jumping up from the bed again, and starting to pace angrily. "DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE I'M SOME KIND OF MONSTER!"

She suppressed a whimper of fear from escaping, and rather kept her mouth in a stern line. If she was going down – if this was indeed it, the final stand of Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon of the CBI, undignified as it was – she wasn't going down crying like a poor little damsel in distress. She was going down fighting. Tough as nails, as her reputation insisted.

Ross grew silent and menacingly moved closer to her until his face was but a breath away from hers. "You're trying to keep your face still like that. All angry and controlled. But you've got fear in your eyes, Tess. Can't you see that that isn't what I want? I don't want you to be scared of me. I just want you to love me again..." He came ever closer, moving for a kiss, but she turned her cheek coldly. He huffed out an angry breath.

"You'll learn." He grumbled deeply. "Soon enough, you'll learn."

Then he turned and went back into the bathroom. He returned with what looked like a dirty, frumpled-up dishcloth.

"What are you doing?" She asked, the veil over her panic wearing thin.

"I'm gonna go get us some plane tickets. We're taking the red-eye back to New York. I can't have you kicking and screaming all night back here. People might get the wrong idea." He said with an ominous smile.

"Plane tickets? That's mad."

"Our plane leaves first thing in the morning. By the time Ja-..." He sighed, frustrated in the way his voice cracked angrily at the name. "By the time your little boyfriend wakes up and realizes that you're not there and you're not at work and something is terribly wrong, we'll be long gone. We'll be on our way to New York. And if they do the effort to get one of those nifty alert-thingys out, we'll be safe and sound in one of the biggest, busiest cities on earth. They'll never find us."

"You're insane if you think you'll pull this off, Ross."

"What? Superman will save you?" He said with a smirk. "Tess, you're a smart girl. You know this is how it's going to be. This is how it was _meant _to be. You'll be better off accepting it now. Then you'll enjoy our new life together, I'll guarantee it."

He gave her a kiss that tasted sour on her lips and then stuffed her mouth with the dirty washcloth before binding it tightly behind her head.

"I'll be back soon, dear." He said, blowing a kiss as he exited the motel room.

X

"Did you get anything?" Jane asked for the umpteenth time. Van Pelt looked up with an expression that was a mixture of pure frustration and semi-panic.

"No, not in the last fifteen seconds, Jane. He made a cash withdrawal earlier tonight and the last thing Ross used his credit card for was to pay for dinner. Round about 11PM. There's been nothing since."

He sighed worriedly and started tapping his foot viciously. He's since the start of their late-night emergency search been banned from pacing.

"Try to relax, Jane. Drink a cup of tea, at least. Calm your nerves. I'm sure that he'll use the card soon and we'll get a location." She said sympathetically. Jane had to restrain himself from saying something mean and snippy in return; he wasn't in the best mood for calming. Instead, he took a deep breath and tried to listen to her.

"Thank you, Van Pelt." Jane said. His tone might've been the most sincere that she's ever heard it, if it wasn't laced so thickly with panic.

"Jane, we need you in here." Cho said. He and Rigsby were standing by the blackboard in the bullpen, trying to figure out what Ross' next move might be from the (very) limited information supplied by Jane.

"Do you have any clue where he might be? We called the hotel and the night staff checked; his room is empty. The luggage is still there, but no Ross."

"He wouldn't have gone back. He would've taken her someplace safe. Maybe another hotel... Maybe even out of town. He loves her; he's just misguided. He might try to take her away."

"Away like... _away_?" Rigsby attempted, afraid of the answer.

"No, he won't kill her. Not yet, at least. He'll try and take her someplace important to both of them. New York City. He'll try and take her home to New York to rekindle a romance. That's what he's after, not revenge or murder. He's after _her_. See if there's a flight to New York anytime soon?" Jane said, his words flowing quickly from one to the next.

"There's a red eye at four AM." Van Pelt says, checking the website of the nearest airport.

"They'll be on that plane." Cho said, immediately taking his gun and badge from his desk. "We'll talk strategy in the car. Let's go."

As they quickly walked to the SUV and headed for the airport at an absurdly early hour, all of their nerves worn to string, Rigsby asked a question that was hanging thick in the air but no one wanted to ask.

"Jane..? What'll happen if she fights him? What'll happen if she doesn't want to be taken back to New York?"

Silence from Jane. Ominous silence that fills the car and sends hidden panic surging through the veins of all its occupants.

Then he says, with a voice that wavers dangerously, and barely conceals the fear in it: "Then he'll kill her."

* * *

**Well, obviously it isn't going to be as easy as 'find her at the airport'. Any exciting ideas? What exciting things can happen that early at an airport? Let me know! Review!**

**Much love, Zanny X**


	14. Chapter 14

**Red Reunion: Chapter 14**

**Thanks for the reviews guys! Rock stars!**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine**

* * *

The Sacramento International Airport was already filled with people; couples and families with children sleeping on parents' laps sitting and waiting for their flights to arrive within the next four hours or so. The team sauntered in the gates, dispersing as they did to their own respective corners of the wide airport floor.

"Can everyone hear me?" Cho discreetly said into his mic.

He heard a chorus of subtle "yeah's" in his earpiece.

"Any sign?"

"None at the entrance." Van Pelt said from where she sat inconspicuously reading a paper on the bench outside the airport. She pulled the collar of her coat up higher to shield from the cold; the sky was blocked up with grey clouds and an icy breeze was in the air. It looked like it might rain today. She hoped that the weather wouldn't interfere with their rescue; she didn't even want to think what would happen if Ross got away with Lisbon... Or worse.

Quickly Grace discarded the horrifying image that popped up into her head from years of grizzly crime scene. She didn't want any images of her boss stained with sticky red blood clinging to her shirt, her eyes all foggy and glazed... She didn't want to imagine how Jane – how the _team_ – would react.

Inside, Cho marched towards the reception desk; his hands were stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie carelessly and casually, but it did little to dilute the official air that seemed to cling to him. Especially in such a high-pressure situation.

"Ma'am, I'm gonna need you to remain calm and not show any reaction to what I'm about to tell you." He said softly to the woman at the ticket desk as a slid his shiny CBI badge over the desk subtly. "I'm with the California Bureau of Investigation. We believe that a suspect will has bought a ticket to the early flight to New York City. Do you recognize this man?" He slid out a picture of Ross Kings over the desk.

The woman's face strained to stay frozen in a calm and nonchalant, but her eyes were panic-filled.

"Uh... I don't know."

"Ma'am, please. I need you to remain very calm. Has anyone resembling this come to buy cash tickets in the last 24 hours or more?"

She took the picture from the desk and tapped the shoulder of the woman sitting beside her. Discreetly and unintentionally conspicuously, she showed the picture under the desk.

"Yeah, I remember that guy. He came around early this morning. Round the end of the night shift. Bought two tickets to New York cash."

"Thank you, Ma'am. I'd appreciate it if you two would keep this between the us? If he shows up we don't want him catching wind of the fact that we're here."

"Oh. No problem officer." She whispered with a smile.

Cho walked back to his corner, where he leant casually (well, as casual as he could get) against the pillar.

"He definately bought a ticket." He mumbled into his mic.

"Hopefully he shows up." Rigsby said as he idly tinkered with the trinkets on the shelves in the gift shop.

Jane was sitting beside him, drinking a styrofoam cup of foul-tasting airport-tea.

He listened to the team back-and-forth over what was happening and what wasn't. He heard the buzzing voice over the intercom: _Flight 2-24 to New York boarding now. All passengers, please move to the boarding gate._

He heard the words echo through the building; the building where the seats were filled but the floor was empty.

The words echoed through his mind; a returning and re-returning countdown... Boarding. Then a call to any other passengers.

Then the last call.

He started out the window of the gift shop, through the blinds, to the main floor.

He _has_ to show up.

Not just to get her back as soon as possible. But to get her back, full stop.

Jane was no idiot. He's worked enough cases and learned enough about a desperate man's mind-set to realize that if he wasn't going on the run now – and the cash ticket said he was – that something had gone horribly wrong. He also knew his fiancé well enough to know that she wouldn't hesitate to risk herself to bring the bad guy down. He hoped with every fiber of his being that she didn't do anything stupid. He hoped that for once in her life she held that adorably sharp wit of hers to herself and kept her adorably big mouth shut and just played along. If she said something that tipped Ross over the edge – and from what he could tell, that wasn't much – he might do something drastic.

Something that might cause him to not need that second ticket.

He felt a dreadful shudder slither down his spine and the sting of threatening tears in his eyes again.

He couldn't do this.

All he wanted to do was walk away, out of the airport and out of the situation, go home and find her waiting for him at home. And she'd take her in those fantastically warm arms of her and let him hold her so intimately and lovingly until every inch of him was happy and content and snug. The way only she could.

He wanted to prepare himself for the worst, but he quickly realized he couldn't and wouldn't even survive the thought of losing her now. Not after everything.

For the first time in a very large amount of years – more than he cared to remember – Patrick Jane closed his eyes and prayed for his fiancé's life. He shut his eyes tightly, feeling the warm tears streak his cheeks rather than letting them fall.

And then he heard three words that stirred his heart in ways he couldn't express, from the buzzing voice of Grace Van Pelt through his earpiece:

"_I see them."_

* * *

**Oh hell yeah. :P Someone called me the Queen of Suspense in one of these last reviews, so I'm just gonna be real nasty now and make it worse. Now was that a cliffhanger? Or was that a **_**cliffhanger?**_** Come on, people, I'm in desperate need of some creative action-scene ideas. And only you, my darling readers/reviewers, can supply them.**

**Fact: My best writing come from the plots supplied by reviewers. **

**All my love, Zanny**


	15. Chapter 15

**Red Reunion: Chapter 5**

**Thanks to all my lovely reviewers, and special thanks to my little friend from Italy, Liz, who gave a really great suggestion! I love those things like mad.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine**

* * *

"Don't move." Cho commanded urgently into the mic. "Rigsby, keep Jane there!"

They watched as Ross entered the airport. She was walking behind him, her eyes downcast and her movements small.

Jane's heart almost stopped when he saw her through the blinds. She looked like she's been through a lot in the last few hours; he saw her wrists, raw and red, sticking out from her sleeves. Her slumped shoulders and bowed head: the two parts of her that was usually resolute and proud.

His heart sunk and shattered.

All he wanted was to extract her from this horrible situation and hold her and comfort her until she was back to her old self.

He felt his legs twitching and himself start to get up, his hands balling into fists. But a large, strong hand on his shoulder held him back and pushed him back into a sitting position on the bench.

"I _have_ to go get her." Jane said in a violent and dangerously hushed tone.

"We _will. Sit. Still._" Rigsby said. Jane was almost scared by the stern voice coming from the usually gentle agent, but he didn't let it phase him.

He probably would've struggled and escaped, but Rigsby put his other hand on his shoulder and held him in place. "Don't ruin this, Jane. It could be a matter of life and death."

Reluctantly, Jane stilled.

Cho's voice came from the mic in his ear: "Looks like he's heading to the boarding gate. I'm gonna cut him off. Van Pelt, help me out."

Rigsby's hand stayed strong and invading on his shoulder. On the other side of the blinded glass barrier, he saw Teresa being led by that sewer-rat of a man; he saw Ross' slimy hand go to the small of her back – the spot he loved so much, that was intimate to touch but still appropriate for the workplace. The sight made a shudder creep down his spine.

What broke him was her flinch at his touch; it was clear to anyone paying attention – not even necessarily someone with his mental abilities – that she didn't want to be within a mile of this man, lest be touched by him. She wanted to get away from him; she was afraid, she was broken and she _needed _him. More than she's ever needed him before. More than she'd ever admit out loud.

Cho and Van Pelt appeared from their respective corners, each moving with casual but quick steps, intending to cut Ross off before he gets to the door.

But then something happened that no one quite expected.

From her slumping, defeated shadow, Teresa Lisbon re-emerged. With a lightning-quick move, she turned, threw a quick but powerful jab to Ross' face and threw him to the ground. She turned to run, but Ross King was no stranger to high-pressure situations and, thinking on his feet (or rather, thinking lying down), he stretched his arm out and grabbed her ankle before she could run away.

The new struggle made the entire team spring into actions – Cho and Van Pelt's casual marching turned to runs, their guns quickly being found and pointed, and identifications being shouted into the air.

In the shock of what was happening, Rigsby's instincts took over so his hand pulled back to go to his gun and he ran to the action. Jane, of course, immediately shot up as well, and ran with speed that seemingly came from nowhere to where Lisbon and her captor were struggling on the tiled airport floor.

The civilians were yelling and running away from the scene; within moments, it turned into Ross and Lisbon struggling in a heap on the floor, surrounded by a circle of shouting, stern-faced police officers with their guns pointed.

Jane wanted nothing more than to get in there and extract her from Ross' grasp and pull her to safety, but the tension-levels skyrocketed when the metallic shape of Ross' gun appeared in the tangled mess of angrily-tensed arms, balled fists and kicking legs.

And then, from the back-and-forth of who seemed to be "winning" in the tumble between captor and captive, it happened.

Ross got a grasp around her waist, with her arms trapped firmly under his arm.

"No!" Jane yelled, hurling himself towards them, but he was stopped by the strong arms of Rigsby and Cho.

Slowly Ross stood up, taking her with her, with his gun pressed hard against her neck.

Panting, he looked up at the faces of the people around him.

"Hello there." He heaved; he jerked Lisbon's waist violently against him and a cry of pain escaped before she could stifle it. "You must be the other team, hey? My name is Ross Kings. It's nice to finally meet you. Teresa has old me so much."

"Let her go, Ross!" Jane yelled. He was barely being held back by the team – fearful of Ross' gun going off if Jane's attack happened – and the anger and hatred burned in his eyes.

Ross' eyes moved to Jane; it was clear in his expression that the feeling was mutual.

"Hello Patrick. I can't say it's nice to see you again." A nasty splintering tone. "You're a little too late now. Teresa and I are going away. We're going to be together. Like we were supposed to be, all along. Before you came and messed everything up." He sneered and paused to regain his breath. "And you're going to let us leave. Because even though I love her... I'm not going to let her go back to _you_." The gun in his hand quivered against her neck.

"That's not going to happen, Kings. Let her go." Cho said, his voice insistent and steady.

"I don't think I should."

"We could sort something out, Kings. You're a cop, with a good record. If you let her go now, we could easily cut a deal. You could spend some time in psychology and work the desk for a few weeks, and then you'll be fine. No harm done. But you'll have to let her go right now if you want that to happen."

"That's not going to ever happen, Agent Cho. But I apply your negotiation skills. You learned from the best." A leer in Lisbon's direction. "No. There's no negotiating here. I set the rules and you follow them. Here's the rules: we get a plane and a pilot. No flight plan; I'll decide where we go once we're in the air. There'll be no use trying to follow us. And you're gonna let us go, because if you don't I'll shoot. First her. Then me. I don't want to live without you..." He directed the last part to her, his voice breaking.

Cho was about to continue the negotiation when Lisbon spoke: "You're a child, Ross. You've always been. You can't accept the fact that I chose Jane over you, and now you're throwing your toys. Just let me go. You're making a fool of yourself."

His eyes darkened with hatred, and Jane watched in terror as his finger tensed ever-so-slightly above the trigger.

"TAKE ME!" He yelled. "You love her, don't kill her. Take me instead. Take your revenge out on me."

Lisbon's eyes flew to his; sharp, green panic met his blue, flooded in fear.

This wasn't supposed to be happening...

Ross Kings looked from side to side to side. This was confusing and dizzying. His pulse was racing, adrenaline invading every vein, perspiration lining on his brow.

_Why is this happening? What's happening? Why..? Why..?_

And then, all of the sudden, amidst the shouting and the violence and the adrenaline-pumped tension of the situation, all became quiet in Ross King's mind. The movements of the gun-wielding cops surrounding him slowed; the strength pushing angrily against him from the woman in his arms softened.

And a loud noise rang out, echoing against the walls of the airport that was busy just a few minutes ago, but was now nearly deserted.

A single gunshot.

* * *

**GASP! Who shot who? Did Ross shoot Lisbon? Or someone else? Or did the gunshot come from a CBI-gun? OH MY GOSH, THE TENSION! (I'm just being mean. You know I love you guys. This is code for PLEASE REVIEW NOW!)**

**Much love, Zanny X**


	16. Chapter 16

**Red Reunion: Chapter 16**

**Hey guys! This is the second last chapter. Next will be a nice little epilogue, most probably the wedding! :)**

**Also, to Laura (aka Jisbon4ever) – this is freaking **_**ridiculous!**_** I swear – and I'm not just making this up to steal the plot and seem really creative, I swear I'm not - I broke my brain to think of the most twist-y plot ever and then to hide it and make it really unexpected. I didn't even put the "or from an entirely different gun..."-bit in there like I wanted to so badly! And you **_**call **_**it, just like that! I swear, child, you're **_**psychic! **_**Or a mentalist, like Jane. I'm still completely boggled by the fact that you hit the plot spot-on. Congrats. And I'm kind of scared of you now... 0_0 Just kidding, sweetie, I still love you! :)**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

* * *

The gun lay quivering in her hands. It was still warm, coming out from a long, _long _time of shooting-celibacy.

Warm tears streaked down her cold cheeks; an involuntary shiver, maybe from the cold breeze shooting in from the open boarding gates, or maybe from shock.

She didn't want it to end this way.

She never thought that he'd die by _her _hands. In fact, she never thought he'd die like this at all. Not the Ross she knew. The Ross she knew was a completely different man than the moster that stood, snarling and threatening, only minutes before.

It had to be done.

Lives were at stake here.

She just wished it wasn't her.

She raised her head for the first time about 15 minutes later; the back-up requested by the team had arrived, including the ambulance. They lifted his lifeless body on the stretcher to the ambulance – they would take him to the hospital to be certified dead by a doctor. They would drive slowly, she knew, without the red flashing lights or the siren, because the person lying on the stretched had no chance of ever living again.

He was gone forever.

The bloody, red gunshot in his skull made sure of that. And she pulled the trigger.

A fresh stream of tears ran down her cheeks.

"Emily?" Her voice was smaller and frailer than she'd ever heard it before; in hearing that voice Emily Kings knew that, even though it killed her, she did the right thing. If the imposter in Ross' body had turned Teresa Lisbon – the strongest person she knew – into a quivering, scared mess, then there was no other way.

"I'm glad you're okay." It's the first words she'd uttered since she shot the gun and fell to her knees.

Teresa falls down beside her and envelops her in a hug. She feels, rather than lets the sobs escape her throat, and her body shakes as they quake every part of her.

"I'm so, so sorry." Teresa whispers.

"You don't need to be sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for letting this happen."

"You didn't let this happen!"

"But I saw it happening and I didn't stop it. Maybe if I did, if I drew a line and got him help earlier on, he wouldn't have spiraled. Maybe..."

"Hush now..." She said, gently stroking the younger woman's strawberry blonde hair. "You couldn't have done anything. No part of this is your fault or was ever your responsibility. I'm so sorry you had to pull that trigger."

"If I didn't you would've died. And he would've killed himself. I'd rather live with the guilt of pulling a trigger than live with the guilt of knowing I had a gun and opportunity and watched him shoot you and himself instead." Her heaving sobs gentle just a little.

Then she looks up at her with red-rimmed, watery eyes. "Where's Jane?"

Lisbon – her face bruised and her eyes not all that dry either – looks back around her shoulder and indicates with her head to where Jane is delivering a report to the uniforms. "He's pretty rattled. But he'll be okay. I just talked to the higher-ups, and they agree it's a clear-cut case. You're an officer of the law and you had to defend a fellow cop, so..."

"I'm a lab rat."

"You have a badge. That counts. I doesn't matter that it's your personal gun or not. Someone was gonna shoot, and it was one of the good guys and it was for a good reason. No ones going to press any charges. If it goes on your record, it will be only good things."

"How can 'she shot her own brother' be interpreted as good?" Her voice was broken.

Lisbon hesitated. "I'd like you to stay with us for a while. Until you find your feet again. We have an extra room."

"Tess, please don't... I'm pretty depressed, yes, but I'm not going to throw myself off a bridge."

"Still." Sincere green eyes, red-rimmed and weary, did an exceptional job of persuading the broken young woman.

"Fine."

They hugged and Lisbon softly rubbed her shoulder, before getting up and going back to the arms of her fiancé.

He immediately took her into a suffocating hug.

"I'm so glad you're okay. Did I say that already?" He asked. His voice was hoarse from screaming and sobbing. There were a few frightening moments after the gunshot sounded so omniously, where his world nearly shattered. And then, when he saw her struggle up from beneath the weight of the dead and bloody Ross, her eyes filled with both fear and relief, it was as if the shattered pieces instantaneously glued themselves together again.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight ever again." He whispered into her hair. She didn't argue.

When she pulled away from the hug, she looked up at him with her big, green eyes. She saw the weariness in his blue orbs, the anger and the anxiety and the fear of the past few hours finally unraveling into something that resembled relief and peace. And a smile cracked its way onto her features.

"Let's go home."

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**That was a hard one to write, I'll admit. I'm all choked up. Tune in next time for the epilogue – I promise that there will be no suspense, no cliffhangers, just pure, 100% fluff. Sorry for all I put you through with this fic. But I'm a pathological meany – I'm made to taunt and tease with those lovely little cliffies I love so much! **

**Much love, Zanny X**


	17. Epilogue

**Red Reunion: Epilogue**

**Hey guys! Thanks so much for the reviews, as always. So this is the ep... It's been a hell of a ride writing this. First Red Conciliation and now Red Reunion. I enjoyed myself so much. Thanks for reading and reviewing so loyally. **

**I tried to put in the link to the wedding dress I had in my, but it got all messed up. It's really pretty. I hope my description is sufficient.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine**

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He moved through the creamy-walled hallways of the church; he was dressed up in his best tuxedo suit, but his hands were sweaty and fidgeting.

He felt the metal butterflies pulverize his stomach; his heart was racing like mad and his fingers were tingling with sharp pins and needles.

Pre-wedding jitters.

Everyone had them, but for some reason he expected that he'd be exempt. Maybe it was because this is his second wedding, or because of all the much-more-dramatic things that have happened to them, or simply because he was _Patrick Jane._ He didn't get nervous. He was too mentally-advanced to fall victim to something as common as the jitters.

Or maybe that, up until about five minutes ago, the only thing he felt for this wedding was excitement. And maybe even impatience.

But that was then.

Now he felt sick to his stomach with nerves and saw spots and wanted – _needed _– to get out of this suffocating suit. Put on one of his nice, comfy three-piece suits.

His mind flashed back to years ago, on the day of his wedding with Angela. He was too distracted to have these feelings; they were called to sort out Danny in the hospital before he even had his suit completely on. So this was an all-around first for him.

And it was bad.

Not the butterflies he expected he wouldn't have. It was crazy nerves, making him sick to his stomach and his head spin violently.

Moments ago he escaped the suited-up sternness of Cho and Rigsby (who both started eying him suspiciously when the perspiration first started to film on his forehead) and ran to where he knew she would be.

He had to get to her.

He didn't know what he'd say when he found her; that they should postpone? They shouldn't have moved the wedding up. It was a stupid idea, it was too soon. They were blinded by gatefulness that she was alive, and didn't realize they were rushing into this commitment...

Or maybe they should just elope and have their wedding alone? Away from all the faces, judging him – judging _them_ – each predicting a divorce date closer to now.

Maybe they shouldn't get married. Why mess with a good thing? They made a good boyfriend/girlfriend couple. They made an excellent engaged couple. Why mess that up with a wedding? Make it a marriage, make it so old and tired? They were an unconventional couple. A lot of unconventional couples don't marry... No one would think less.

She'd forgive him...

He reached the French-styled double doors; he heard footsteps approaching and he quickly side-stepped the doors, hiding himself behind an adjacent pillar.

Jess, Cath, Grace and Emily – each dressed in purple bridesmaid's dresses – streamed out.

"Don't worry, Tess. We'll make sure he's good and waiting at the altar. _Do not _drink the entire bottle!" Emily called into the room. Then the four women sauntered down the hallway, murmuring between themselves.

He waited until their voices and footsteps faded down the hallway and then, carefully with quivering hands, he opened the doors.

The sight he found almost made him lose balance in amazement.

Lisbon was sitting with her feet on the coffee table – the high heels she's been complaining about lying precariously on the floor beside the chair – with a full champagne flute between her fingers.

But that wasn't what amazed him.

He hadn't seen her dress on her yet. Only when she brought it home in the plastic case after a shopping trip with the girls. She had a smile on her face then. He knew it was beautiful, but he never imagined the way it would look on her.

It was a pure white strapless gown that wrapped around her petite bodice and waistline, hugging her tightly in all the right places – her shiny golden crucifix shone in her cleavage. The soft, flowing material streamed down to her beautifully manicured toes. It was simple and elegant and could've been plain if it was on anyone else.

She heard as he walked closer and looked up. Her eyes were bright and green, peeking out from beneath thick black lashes and he silky fringe. Her hair was pinned up into a messy up-do, letting curly locks freely frame her face.

"Jane!" She said, sitting up and placing her champagne flute on the coffee table. "Rigsby just called Van Pelt, he said you were missing." She jumped up and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. When she loosened her grasp and looked at his face. "What's wrong, Patrick? Are you okay? Are you getting cold feet?"

He gaped stupidly at air; suddenly his mouth was dry. He didn't have enough brain function to have cold feet.

Because the woman he loved was standing in front of him, looking heart-stoppingly _stunning _in a white dress, ready to promise to spend the rest of her life with him.

"_Patrick_?"

Still only soundless words.

"Jane!"

This seemed to bring him back to earth.

"Sorry." He choked out. "You look... amazing, Teresa." He couldn't help the goofy smile that spread over his face.

For a moment a thought flashed through his mind - this marriage was going to make him pathetic. They're not even down the aisle and he's already full of jitters and bumbling and stumbling and flashing goofy smiles. This was _not _the ice-cool, charming Patrick Jane he knew. But another thought quickly replaced it: this Patrick Jane got to be with Teresa Lisbon, and it made it all worth it.

"Are you okay?" She asks, her concerned nature coming through.

"I'm fine." He says, smiling. "I mean, I wasn't fine. I was pretty nervous there for a second, but..." He took her hands in his and glowed. "I'm good now. I can't wait to meet you at the altar." He smiled happily and kissed her.

She smiled into the kiss and responded with fervor.

Her lips tasted like champagne.

Then she looked up at him and he clearly saw the raw relief in her eyes; she was scared there for a minute. She thought he was going to leave her. (Probably drank half the bottle of champagne to calm her frazzled nerves).

He almost laughed at the preposterousness of the idea. Even in his darkest moment, in the midst of a lowly bout of wedding-nerves, he never considered leaving her. He considered leaving the church and he considered postponing, but he never considered leaving her.

And he never would.

Not after everything they went through to be together.

Not after everything they went through to _stay _together.

In that moment, Jane realized that whatever nervousness he felt was absolutely unnecessary. For the first time, maybe ever, Patrick Jane didn't need any manipulation or tricks.

He was exactly where he was meant to be.

With exactly who he was supposed to be with.

"Tessie, we couldn't find him-" Emily appeared in the doorway with a worried expression. This quickly fell when she saw the two intimately wrapped up in a lover's embrace. "Ah. Well, I guess you found him. Shame on you, Jane! Don't you know it's bad luck to see the bride in her dress? Can't you crazy kids keep it in your pants for a few more hours?"

Lisbon chuckled and pink blush tinted her cheeks.

"Cut us a break, Emily. We've been through a lot. We're just really grateful to be together." Jane said, smiling.

"Yeah, I've been living with you guys for a month now. I know just how _grateful _you've been." She said cheekily. "Get out of here, lover boy. Your bride it about to walk down the aisle and you better be out there waiting for her!"

He smiled charmingly at Emily and then turned back to Teresa.

He gave her a languid, lingering kiss. "I'll see you out there." He whispered.

He walked out the doors and down the hallway a different man than when he came only minutes before.

After everything they've been through – the move to New York, the collaborative attack from Red John and the Rogue Resonant, Ross' crazed kidnapping – it all resolved to this day.

This moment.

About five minutes later, Jane stood at the end of the aisle of the small church they found while driving to a case.

The sun streamed in from the windows and filled the room with a happy, luminous glow. It was a perfect day for a wedding.

He smiled happily at Cho – his best man – and Rigsby, who sat in the front pew.

He watched the bridesmaids walk down the aisle; first Jess, then Cath, then Grace, and finally, Emily, the maid of honor. All dressed in the purple wedding dresses they chose themselves (because his Teresa couldn't care less about the purple vs. yellow debate), all holding bouquets.

And then he saw her walking down the aisle. She was smiling; her snowy-white dress that she wore so beautifully seemed to glow as she walked towards him. He never felt anything like this feeling before. Pure elation, pure satisfaction. Like nothing on earth could touch him anymore.

When she reached him, she linked their arms and smiled amusedly. "You're smiling." She teased.

"Do you blame me? I'm marrying a beautiful woman today. It's worth smiling about."

She blushed bright red, and was about to retort (probably with a witty sarcastic comment that contradicted her dainty appearance) but the priest began the ceremony.

"By the way..." He whispered, with a twinkle in his eye. "I love you."

"I love you too." She whispered back. "Now shut up, we're getting married!"

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**I tried to end that cute. Hope it was okay? Review for old time's sake!**

**Much love, Zanny X**


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